28 Starscreams
by Balrog Roike
Summary: He is treacherous and screechy - so much we know, but even under his polished and guarded shell there's more than meets the eye.
1. Playing With Kids

_Disclaimer: I own nothing – at least nothing Transformers related. _

_AN: This is my first try writing English fanfictions so please be nice. Tell me where to look for grammar and spelling mistakes and I will do my best to correct them. If it's so horrible you would like to be my Beta or you can tell me a good one, I would glad, too._

_I've searched for a "28 Starscreams" and found none and really, most of the prompts seem too… fitting for his character to really give it a try. But I will do my best and try to surprise you in at least some chapters. Ideas to prompts are always welcome._

_Corrected after... well, some time by mdnytryder. Thank you._

**

* * *

**

1/28 Playing With Kids (Movie 07)

On Cybertron, there is a saying: "_Primus is with younglings and fools_."  
Well, it certainly was right – at least for one party involved…

At first, Optimus Prime and his mechs didn't know what to make out of the unexpected transmission that reached their temporary base.

Starscream's screechy, irritating voice was unique, so it was certain that it was really the former second in command, now the Supreme Commander of the Decepticons calling….

But what in Primus' name had possessed the Seeker to almost _demand _that the Autobots come to the transmitted co-ordinations and take him prisoner?

If you squinted your eye or optic just the right way, it was the next best thing to a surrender they ever got from him.

Scratch that, _it was_ a clear surrender.

Even more amazing, the Autobots and their human allies had not even known that the Seeker was on the planet Earth until just a few minutes ago.  
After the battle in Mission City, the Jet had simply vanished and had been never seen again, not even a tailfin or a wingtip….

And now this!

Something to investigate for sure, even if there was the danger of a cleverly staged trap – but then, ol' Screamer had sounded really desperate….

* * *

An hour or so later, Optimus Prime stood proud and tall in front of one of the most dangerous Decepticons the Autobots had ever known – and had to lock his servos in order to keep himself from doubling over in laughter.

Ironhide and Bumblebee had given up the fight against their mirth and rolled on the floor, silently shaking in unstoppable laughter, with energon tears running down their faceplates. Ratchet stood – yet –, grinning like a maniac, keeping a close optic on his comrades, should one of them surrender to their glee and offline from overheating.

The source of their amusement stood near one wall of the hangar of a human Air Force Base, to the human eye silent and in no way different from all the other jets standing in a neat line to his right. Only the wingtips of the silver plane seemed to shake slightly, but that could have been the wind, for all they knew….

A F-22, identical to all the others in the hangar, stood right under a bright banner announcing "Open Day In The Air Force!". This particular jet sported even brighter finger-prints and roughly painted pictures in cheerful colours from red to black and back and everywhere in between, and a swarm of young children sleeping around, on, and even in him.

Two or three pre-school classes had visited the base today to see the shiny, deadly planes, signifying the dreams in each young human child.

And, not realizing their chosen display piece for today, was, in truth, a disguised, hiding-in-plain-sight, _recharging _Cybertronian, the soldiers and pilots had allowed that the children to climb all over the jet, open the canopy and finally fall asleep.

To say that Starscream was not happy as he woke up was an understatement.

But he couldn't do anything against all these tiny, crawling, sticky, disgusting, prints-leaving, tweaking, fumbling, _torturing_ insects if he didn't want so much grime, flesh and bone pieces inside his systems and transformation cogs that they would lock permanently.

The first hour he took in stride, the second tested his patience – the fifth was too much and he did what finally led to the present situation.

"So…," Prime began carefully over internal communications, laughter barely contained. "You…," an odd whirring sound managed to sneak through his vocalizer. He cleared his throat. "You wanted to surrender, Starscream?"

"Oh, shut up and get these things off me, already", was the tired, strained reply.

Ratchets grin threatened to split his faceplates: "Oh, if only we had met the humans earlier…."

* * *

_0 for the Decepticons, 2 for the tiny, disgusting flesh-bags. _


	2. Happy

_Disclaimer: I own nothing – at least nothing Transformers related. _

_AN: Thank you for all your nice reviews. I'm glad that the former chapter made you smile.  
I now have a poll in my biography where you can choose the next chapter of this fanfic, or at least the next chapter I already have an idea what to write._

_Corrected by mdnytryder. Thanks._

**

* * *

**

2/28 Happy (G1)

Smoke and ash lingered in the air, edged with the smell of rust, melting metal and spilled Energon.  
The sky was blood red, a dying sun surrounded by thick clouds made a place for the cold, bright evening star, which seemed unfazed by the horrible number of deaths this day.

Where the ground was not covered with grime and dull metallic limbs and corpses, it was stained with electric crackling pink Energon and spilled hydraulic fluids. Wings, legs, arms, heads, all mixed in the remains of the battle, and no one could say, which limb had been part of an Autobot and which corpse once belonged to a Decepticon.

Only two giant dead mechs were different.

Their remains were situated on a little hill, away from the others and almost obscene in their completeness and cleanliness. Certainly, they had their fair share of scratches and dents, and they too leaked Energon out of different wounds like small streams, staining the grass under their pale bodies, but their deaths had been swift and relatively painless, without the searing agony of all the crushing and ripping and piercing and burning that had taken their subordinates' lives.

One of the giants had once been an Autobot, a great, compassionate leader and brave warrior, colored in vibrant blue and red. The other giant had been a Decepticon, the firm and strong Supreme Commander, willing to do anything for the cause he believed in.

Now they were dead, felled by two fully charged Null Ray shots while they were locked in a fierce battle with each other.  
Their CPUs never stood a chance….

And now, in death, they finally had a clear similarity - there was nobody left who would have cared about their fate.

* * *

Under the light of the evening star Starscream was crowned on Cybertron.

His chest swelled with pride. Now he not only achieved his lifelong dream and goal of becoming the Supreme Commander of the Decepticons, but he had also slaughtered all the important Autobots while leading his troops after Megatron's fall.

Now Cybertron was fully his and his alone, something even the _great and mighty_ Megatron had always dreamed of.

He was the ruler of Cybertron now, the brilliant metallic planet in the depths of the universe, future base for the exploration and conquest of all known and unknown galaxies.

Starscream rose to his feet, the royal cape heavy on his shoulders and the golden crown fitting on his head like it was made for him and him alone.

The crowd cheered as he faced it and he looked into all the faithful, happy faces of the Cybertronians who knew that _finally _they had the best of the best as their rightfully leader.

He gifted them with a smile and their enthusiasm reached new heights.

Finally, all his dreams had come true….

* * *

"Shall I wake him, Lord Megatron?" Scrapper looked down on the, for once, peaceful form of Starscream, Air Commander of the Decepticon Army and current occupant of the med bay in the Decepticon base.

The white and red Seeker was deep in recharge, unconsciously cooing and chirping like a sparkling, with a smile on his lips that made his appearance surprising beautiful and appealing.

The Constructions couldn't decide if they wanted to make fun of him, find him utterly adorable, or run like Unicron himself was on their heels because of the weirdness of the situation.

Megatrons gaze wandered over the peaceful countenance of his second, then he looked away, torn between amusement, embarrassment and unpleasantness as Starscream crooned particularly loudly.

"Let him sleep," was his final decision as he awkwardly patted a silver wing.

His treacherous SIC had fought well in the last battle with the Autobots, actually taking a shot for Megatron, nobody could understand why, that had led to his arrival in the medbay with less of his metal attached to his body than could be found on the battlefield.  
He had earned himself a good night's rest.

Besides, for once, even the infamous Megatron had not the Spark to wake Starscream from his dreams….

* * *

_Isn't he cute?_

_Well, I have two questions for you. _

_1) Who was the Prime at the end of the whole G continuities? Or were there two Primes? Rodimus and Optimus?  
2) I know read there was no Primus in G but can I use him anyway?_


	3. Obedient

_Disclaimer: I own nothing – at least nothing Transformers related._

_AN: Thank you for all your nice reviews. It's good to know someone enjoys my writing – but it makes publishing this chapter even harder._

_I hate it!_

_Seriously, Starscream and obedience are like fire and water. Sure, you can use the usual scenes where he is obedient because of pain or because he's afraid or Megatron has mind washed him…  
But that's boring and so I settled for this solution.  
Not good, not amazing but it will do until the next chapter._

_So please excuse me now, I'm going to sulk._

_Corrected by mdnytryder. Thanks._

**

* * *

**

3/28 Obedient (Armada)

_He could hear the voices, the crowd, the thousands of echoes in a huge room…._

So much time had passed since that day, but it was still fresh in his mind, always near the surface, like a smell you can't forget, a disgusting taste, a lovely sight or the feeling of air under your wings….

_His steps were light on the silvery surface of the floor, mere echoes, clicking and whirling in the steady rumble…._

The memory is there forever and always and he wouldn't want it any other way….

_Silence so sudden, he faltered in his steps.  
But just for a moment, not important, straighten your shoulders, raise your wings and go on, show your confidence, your pride._

These words, these thoughts, this mantra, so familiar even after all this time….

_A giant figure sitting on a throne, proud and tall, brilliant, a leader, _his _leader.  
He stepped up to the throne, stopping some meters before the feet of the tall Cybertronian, his leader, and bowed his head, dropping to his knees._

He never rose from his knees. He walked, he flew, he fought – but part of him always stayed kneeling in front of his leader.

"_A new recruit to our cause, a new Cybertronian willing to follow our rules and change his destiny and the fate of Cybertron itself!" Even the voice of his leader is great.  
Like thunder._

"_He will pledge himself to us, the Decepticons, to me, to fight for our freedom from the Autobots, to free Cybertron from its slavery and decadence, and bring about a new Golden Age and show the universe our greatness!"_

Freedom, decadence, slavery…  
The taste of these words are still the same on his tongue, but the meaning seems blurred, and the future isn't clear anymore.

_The leader rose to his feet, his shape easily taller than any of his men.  
He walks to the new recruit, the red flyer kneeling on the metallic floor and gazes down at him out of fiery red optics.  
_"_You want to be part of the mighty Decepticon army, so swear your allegiance to me and my cause, recruit!"_

His oath.

Yes, yes, he remembers the words.  
He can't resist mouthing them as he remebers, repeating them once more, renewing them.

_His own voice, soft and screechy in his ears after the deep growling of his leader.  
_"_I swear to follow the rules of the Decepticons. I will show no mercy to the enemies of me and my cause…"_

More memories, energon and metal, smoke and fire, screams, cries, pleading in his audios, but he doesn't care. His wingsaber slices through Autobots and Decepticons alike if they are a threat to him or his beliefs…

"_I won't show weakness…"_

Metal against metal, snarling voices, violence at each corner. You want to be on top? Then be willing to do anything and everything. The enemies are waiting for you on the battlefield but the real war happens in the base around you.

"_I will always do my best, no matter the circumstances…"_

Shooting all around him, wind under his wings, Jetfire's laughter in his audios as he aims at Cyclonus. Prime and Hot Shot racing to the Minicon-Panel, determined to touch it first, Red Alert standing above a wounded Sideswipe….  
He fires his lasers at Demolisher and relishes his screams of pain. A command and he turns to help Jetfire against the irritated helicopter….

"_I will always act in my and my cause's best interests…"_

The hurt in their faces as he betrays them.  
It hurts him, too, but he doesn't show it. He's a Decepticon after all.  
But they don't know the rules of the Decepticons. Autobtos trust far too easily, they give second chances when there never should have been a first to begin with...

"_I will serve my leader in all ways possible…"_

Anger, pain, rebellious thoughts and answers, but even this is a possibility to help the cause, to make his leader stronger, to show him his mistakes, to teach him how to treat his subordinates and to win….  
And then the cruel pain in his chest as a sword pierces his very soul. The warmth of Energon on his skin, the knowledge of his certain death….

"_And I will always, no matter what the sacrifice, protect Cybertron and my cause! Nothing is worth more, nothing is more important. This is what I swear for now and ever!"_

Cheers and the strong voice of his leader: "Rise, Starscream, soldier of the Decepticons. May you serve me and your cause to the best of your abilities."

He smiles, not really visible as the bright light surrounds him.  
He can feel how it strips him of his metallic skin, how it vaporizes his circuits and brings his Energon to boil inside his melting tubes until they too disappear into nothing.  
The pain as Unicron erases his very being is unbearable, but he feels peace because even if nobody else will ever think so, he at least knows, that he always was obedient.

Obedient in more ways Galvatron could ever imagine….

_

* * *

_

I still hate this chapter…  
Perhaps, one day, I will have a new idea and remake it.  
Until then I will pretend it doesn't exist. Pah…

_Another thing: There should be a poll in my profile where I have listed the chapter titles I've already stories in mind. So please, say me which shot I should write next._


	4. Special 1: Flat Out

_Disclaimer: I own nothing – at least nothing Transformers related. _

_AN: Now you're asking yourself: "Why a special? There are only three chapters so far."  
My answer: "Hey, why not?"_

_A request from Wol Lo._

_Corrected by mdnytryder. Thanks._

**

* * *

**

Special 1: Flat Out (G1)

He knew the rumors. He knew the stories. He knew the jokes, the puns, the insults whispered behind his back….

Starscream, fastest Seeker online, the most maneuverable flyer in the whole Decepticon army, terror of the sky, co-ruler of Vos, prince of the clouds and one of a kind with the winds.

But those were the rarely used titles, at ceremonies, or if he had made Megatron proud – often without realizing it until the moment the giant silver Cybertronian grinned at him, clapped a hand on his shoulder and praised him.

Starscream would sometimes spend hours after that, equally pleased and angry at himself for doing so.

More frequently, his unmatched speed and agility led to cruel mocking from his comrades and enemies alike.  
He was only called the fastest Cybertronian because you saw his tailfin more often in battle as his nosecone. His agility made it easier to dodge shots – only to run into Megatron's fist because of one of his failed schemes.

He was a coward, with more practice in running away than actual fighting.

Yeah, he heard it all….

He had to admit, they never had the honor to really watch him fly.

Oh, how Starscream hated Earth….  
Here, on this disgusting dustball with its fleshy, squishy, carbonis-based inhabitants, nearly all flyers shared the same top speed, plus minus some.

He could hear the Aerialbots whooping behind him, believing they had him finally, after a long chase around the North American Air Space.

The Autobots had somehow learned about a secret mission he had undertaken. Some sort of an exploration and delivery run combined.  
Go to the planet X, Y, whatever, search it for mineral A, B, C and so on, load your _empty _bomber bay– slag Megatron, he couldn't even rain bombs on the heads of these posers – with them and come back.

Great, Air Commander and SIC of the whole Decepticon army, reduced to a minion of the Constructicons.  
_This_ certainly hadn't been in the job description.

But back to his current problem, the wannabe flyers and their deranged world views.  
Time to show at least _five _Autobots why he was feared and admired by Cybertronians of both factions….

He tipped his nose heavenwards, up in the clear, azure sky.

The Aerialbots followed him, even if the tallest seemed somewhat reluctant.

Starscream ascended higher and higher, until he climbed in a perfect, vertical line, up and up in the darkening infinity, the sun glistering on his silvery white paint.

Oh, how he hated Earth with its heavy, dust-loaded atmosphere.  
It pulled on his wings, all these little atoms weighing down his whole frame….

The air around him thinned with each meter and the whooping stopped and turned into an uncertain, almost questioning silence as the five red and white flyers struggled with the fast pace, the unfamiliar situation and with their fears.  
Starscream, on the other hand, felt wonderful.

It was exciting.

Oh how he had missed this freedom.  
The blue sky of Earth certainly had its own charm, but the feeling had never been like this, could have never been like this.

He felt his inner systems shift and adjust as more and more stars appeared all around him in this beautiful, dark world which was space. His thrusters sputtered, readying for the final change that would show the amateurs behind him that they were _nothing _compared to him.

Starscream could feel his pumps speeding up, processing Energon, oil and lubricant through every part of his body, heating the more sensible systems and setting all his sensors to full alert.  
He could feel the warmth of the sun on his wings and backplating and the first freezing touch of space on his underbelly.

It was time….

His thrusters sputtered one last time – then they stopped burning altogether.

For one, long, endless moment he hung between infinity and death….

Then his thrusters wrapped into themselves, changed places with more fragile, but oh so more powerful variants, delicate systems of metal and wire, capable of speeds that would rip his wings right from his body and burn his paint away and melt his metallic skin underneath if he ever dared to ignite them in the thick atmosphere of Earth, which made flying so terrible boring, and limited with its idiotic friction.

His space thrusters came to life with an explosion, silent in the vacuum of near space, and Starscream shot forward with a joyful whoop, away from the blue waste of dust and organic dirt, away from the gaping Aerialbots, into the limitless infinity of space, where he could be what he wanted to be, where nobody was faster than him, not even the proud space shuttles nor any other Cybertronian alive….

His pursuers could only watch in awe as the fiery silver, red and blue jet before them spit flames and became first a streak of blurred colors, then a rapidly dwindling spot somewhere in the far distance.

They hovered in the not-air, not-entirely-space-yet zone and didn't know if what they had witnessed was real, or as surreal as the scream of a star….

* * *

_I'm not even sure if this works, aerodynamics is as foreign to me as any sort of physics, but hey, I can't imagine how the Seekers were as feared as they were if they hadn't had some sort of space flight capability. And the speed of an Earth jet, even an enhanced one, shouldn't be able to do so._

_There is still a poll and I still encourage you to use it and help me. Next time: Silly_


	5. Silly

_Disclaimer: I own nothing – at least nothing Transformers related. _

_AN: This little story has had its home inside my head for month now. The first time I thought about it I couldn't stop grinning._

_Poor Screamer. I'm a really cruel girl…_

**

* * *

**

4/28 Silly (G1) or The Beauty and the Squid

Nobody was sure why there were windows scattered randomly throughout the Decepticon Underwater base. Some said it was because of the Seekers, who got claustrophobic in closed spaces. But then, how would the sight of a thousand kilometers of dark, heavy, icy water all around them help?

If you looked out, you saw nothing, nada, niente, nix….

The only useful purpose for the thick Cybertronian glass area seemed to be its use as a replacement mirror for the more vain members of the army.

Actually, there was a part of the base where the giant windows weren't useless. The lights of the Bridge were strong enough to illuminate the endless darkness and show all the ugly, deformed fish that swam around the base, searching the mostly bare sea ground for nourishment.

Starscream never paid them any mind after the first two days awake on Earth. Sure, at first it had been entertaining to watch the absolutly disgusting little fishbags swimming here and there and back again, and then to this point, to that….

Horribly fascinating, actually.

He never knew that there could be anything uglier and more useless than the humans.

Well, nobody is perfect.

Now, the fish were only an obscure, shifting motion in his peripheral vision whenever he worked on one of the consoles of the Bridge.  
So it was understandable that he at first didn't notice the change. The window to his left suddenly filled with darkness, real darkness, not the not-really-blue-but-not-black-too sort of darkness you would normally find at these depths. Moving darkness, slimy darkness, darkness with tentacles and a giant reflecting eye that looked through the thick glass with a fixed curiosity.

Not until some minutes later, Starscream turned his head and got a full view of his unexpected guest. His shocked yelp could be heard throughout the whole base.

* * *

Tap. Tap.

Glance.

Tap. Tap tap tap.

Look. Shudder.

Tap. Tap tap tap...

"Slag, Screamer stop it! It's enough that we have to endure your voice. We don't need you to annoy the slag out of us with your fingers, too!"  
Starscream shot Rumble an irritated glare, but he stopped the nervous tapping of his fingers and balled his hands into fists.  
Tight fists.

Glance.

Rumble worked on one of the computers, Primus knew what he did there, and seemed totally unfazed by the constant presence of the watching squid outside the window. The creature was a giant of his species, pitch-black and with tentacles strong enough to give a Cybertronian a good run for his money. Rumble wouldn't be more than an appetizer for this thing.

What did this made Starscream? The main course?

Another look to his left.

"It is watching me," he whined, soft and frightened.  
Rumble gave him a disbelieving look over his shoulder: "Yeah, right…."  
"It is!" In spite of himself, Starscream moved closer to Rumble and whatever he was doing. The giant eye seemed to follow him everywhere.

Rumble sighed an exaggerated sigh and turned around to face his superior, with the same look in his optics that Starscream always displayed if Skywarp did something particularly stupid: "Starscream…" Even the tone of his voice was a perfect imitation. Slow, soft, stern, like a teacher to the idiot of his class. "It is _not _watching you."  
Rumble turned back to finish his work.

Starscream glanced to his left, right into the giant eye of the octopus.

"It is!"

* * *

Frenzy had to admit it was pretty funny to watch his Air Commander pace the room like a caged animal.

By now, everyone in the base knew of the "bad, Screamer-watching squid" and a whole new profusion of cruel nicknames and insults had been invented. It had taken even less time than usual for them to notice that Screamer didn't mind the ridicule of his person as much as the comments about "what a tasty thing" he was and how much the squid would like to get to know him.

There was no limit to the rumors about giant squids that eat ships, airplanes, ships and airplanes, the giant octopus of the Bermuda Triangle (Starscream researched the exact coordinates of this area three times, before he was willing to believe Thundercracker, that, no, this couldn't be that particular octopus), how much iron a squid of this size should need to stay healthy (coincidently, almost exactly the same value that could been found in Starscream's armor, among other metals) and so on and so on….

To say that at the end of the week the proud Air Commander was a wreck was an understatement. Even the Autobots noticed that there was something wrong with him, as he lacked his natural grace in flight and made no attempt to gain the upper hand with Megatron. He didn't even utter his usual sarcastic comments and death threats.

But he went to great lengths to avoid flight above the open water in his attacks and was even busier watching the ocean than dodging shots.

* * *

But back to the present.

Currently the "tasty" Seeker paced up and down the full length of the Bridge, trying to avoid the sight of the giant eye, still looking through the window, _watching _him, waiting to catch him in the open, rip him apart and feed on him – somehow….

Frenzy, who should have been monitoring the activity around some energy plant somewhere in southern Mexico, dutifully counted the rounds. If the Seeker kept up this pacing for much longer, they would have to replace parts of the floor at the end of the day.

Suddenly the door opened und Megatron's mighty figure came into view.

Frenzy immediately found interest in his monitors and the satellite pictures of the plant. His audios strained to make sure that he didn't miss a tiny bit of the undeniably very entertaining conversation between the Supreme Commander and SIC that was about to happen.

"I don't have you promoted as my Second so that you can pace grooves in my floor," growled Megatron. The illogical behavior of his Air Commander irritated him by now to no end.

It had been funny at first, he had even made his own fair share of comments, but now it endangered the perfect performance of his aerial troops – and it was ownright annoying to force Starscream onto the Bridge anew each shift and to lock the door behind him so he couldn't escape back to his quarters to hide from the "giant bad Squid that was out to get him".

Actually, Megatron had never seen this thing himself, neither had any of the other Decepticon he had asked.

"But… but…." The warlord didn't know if he should be delighted, amused, shocked or embarrassed that his usually cocky SIC couldn't even get a full sentence over his quivering lips.

"Starscream!" he thundered and the Seeker stood involuntarily at attention. Megatron offlined his optics, onlined them, offlined again and repeated this cicle a few more times until he was sure that, yes, his treacherous, backstabbing thorn in his side really showed some sort of respect for him without being beaten into a bleeding pulp.

Perhaps he should keep the squid.

The warlord glanced at the window, wanting to see the infamous squid for the first time with his own optics. More famous, in his opinion, if it could teach his SIC some manners.

There was nothing.

He turned around, perhaps he had looked at the wrong window, but there was only the usual darkness of the deep sea on the opposite site also.

"Are you kidding me, Starscream?" the growl was low and dangerous.

The Seeker blinked his optics, still standing at attention without noticing. "Huh?"

"There is nothing!" Megatron bellowed, grabbing Starscream by the neck and literally shoving his face into the next window. "What is the purpose of this farce? This has to be one of your worst schemes ever, Starscream."

He let the Seeker go, who frantically looked around, trying to find his giant stalker.  
In vain.  
It was gone.

Starscream wasn't sure if he should be glad or….

Megatron kicked his Air Commander in the side and left the room. He would deal with Starscream later, after he had had time to cool down so he wouldn't kill him accidentally while punishing him.

The Seeker stayed some minutes on the floor to let the pain pass, and then he stood up and timidly looked out of the window.

Still nothing.

He breathed a sigh of relief and turned around.  
A giant, reflecting eye stared right back at him from the other side of the room….

* * *

Rumor has it, his scream could be heard all the way up to the Ark.

* * *

In two separate, infrequently used hallways two Cybertronians roared with laughter.

Skywarp tried to stand up where he was lying on the floor, shaking and crying because of his glee , but he failed miserably.  
Rumble, on the other side of the Underwater base, hadn't any more success.

"You know, I feel a little bit sorry for Screamer… Should we stop?" came the breathless, mirth filled voice of Frenzy over their comlink.

Skywarp shook his head, still laughing. He reached up and grabbed the hatch on his side of the base, which led through a myriad of tubes right to the mouth of the squid, near the right window of the Bridge. With a breathless giggle, he let another dead deer fall through the hatch, to feed and "thank" their unwitting "fourth" co-conspirator.

"Nah…."


	6. Bathtime

_Disclaimer: I own nothing – at least nothing Transformers related. _

_AN: This is the first version I had in mind for this request. The second version is, well, tamer… (This is possible? Yes, it is…) I've never written something like that before so don't be surprised I cheated my way around certain things._

_Corrected by mdnytryder. Thanks._

**

* * *

**

5/28 Bathtime (G1)

To say that Starscream was experienceing a bad month, would have been an understatement of cosmic proportions.

He had been stalked by a giant squid, ridiculed by everyone of his subordinates and his Commander at least ten times a day, had more paranoid fits than he bothered to count, had destroyed his already questionable reputation with even more embarrassing actions and had made Skywarp, Rumble and Frenzy (once he had finally seen through their cruel prank), the heroes of the whole base.

The names of the three culprits could be heard being praised everywhere, while he himself, was laughed at.

It held little satisfaction for Starscream, that his tormentors were currently hiding on one of the little islands around the base. Apparently, they were afraid of what Starscream would do to them if they ever came under his optics again. Only when Megatron led a new attack, the "Trio of Terror", what the other Decepticons had dubbed them, appeared warily on the horizon to follow the call. They had made sure during the entire battle, that at least three to four other Decepticons had been between them and their Air Commander and SIC.

Not that it really had been necessary.

After achieving only a few hours of recharge because of weeks of paranoia, fear, mental exhaustion, ridicule and his resulting anger over it, Starscream had no real intention of doing anything to Skywarp, Rumble and Frenzy... yet.

He had other problems like, for example, staying in the air, dodging the shots of the Autobots and shooting back.  
In the end, he had little to no success executing all these three objectives, and down he went.

Hard.

And into something really, _really _slimy.

* * *

While he lay there, sinking slowly but steadily into the strange mix of mud, pebbles, sand, garbage and hot tar that would have become a street right next to the swamp not so long ago, he realized that he should have seen this coming. Well, at least it was over now.  
Poor him….

* * *

It was not over.

The universe hated Starscream and right now it had been an especially arduous month.  
He was "saved" from a dirty, muddy, sticky death by your favorite robots in disguise.

Hooray….

Now he stood, dripping, up to his intakes full of a slimy mix of things he didn't even want to think about, smelling like something organic rolled over and died, only to stand up and die again, and was almost as pleased to see Ratchet as Ratchet was to see him.

Ergo: Not the least little bit.

"_What _is that?" Ratchet sounded almost insulted. How dare the twins bring this… for the lack of better words, _something _in his clean medbay, where he tried to repair poor injured mechs and idiots who slagged themselves out of pure stupidity. Like Cliffjumper, who never seemed to learn that you couldn't defeat somebody in hand-to-hand who is more than three times your size.  
For good measure, he gave the staring Minibot on his table a good whack over the head with a wrench at this thought.

Sideswipe looked at Starscream, who glared right back with his one not-cracked optic – and dripped more mud on the previously clean floor.

"A Seeker?" Even the red twin sounded doubtful about this statement. It had been Bluestreak who had downed the flyer with a well-placed shot but at the moment the young gunner lay on a medical berth next to Cliffjumper and was offline.

As all online mechs in the room looked at him, Starscream sighed internally and twitched his wings, splashing mud and dry tar everywhere. He winced as white-hot pain spread through his left wing. Fortunately for him, the tar had sealed every possible wound so he had no fear of about Energon poisoning or something nasty like that.

Ratchet wiped the mud off his face and ignored the complaining Sunstreaker. With a glare he held a wrench under the faceplate of the Decepticon – or under the red optic where the face would be under all the filth. "Don't do that again or I'll let them drag you into the Brig and forget about you until you rust to little flakes of really dirty rust!"

Starscream was too miserable to be impressed. And after the constant – if erroneous – threat of a giant squid waiting to eat you if you weren't looking, Ratchets threats really needed some work….

The medic turned to face Sideswipe again, while Sunstreaker cleaned the smeary spots off his poor abused armor with a rag.

"Who is this?"

Sideswipe glanced at Sunstreaker, who by now mirrored his own sheepish expression, even if somehow reluctantly. "We have no idea. It's hard to find some colored spot under all this mess and… well, he doesn't speak. We… err… we were not very gentle as we freed him."

"And?" This sort of voice was like the calm before the storm.  
Cliffjumper scooted as quietly as possible away from Ratchet and grinned evilly at the twins.

"Well, there was this really big and sharp stone… Somewhere there." Sideswipe pointed at the dripping mess under the one glaring optic.

Sunstreaker came to his twin's help: "We think it damaged his vocalizer. He hasn't uttered one word the whole time. And you know how vocal most Seekers get when grounded."

"Let me get this straight. You _saw_ the stone." Ratchet glared at the two culprits for conformation.

Nod, nod.

"And _although_ you saw it," another glare in the direction of the sheepish bots, who involuntary moved closer together.

Nod.

"You decided to just pull _it _out of _him._" He pointed at the still dripping mess in handcuffs, who scratched, bored, at the drying mud on his chest. "Without checking first, if it would damage him even further?"

Nod?

"YOU SLAGGING SPAWNS OF THE UNMAKER! WHAT HAVE I DONE TO DESERVE YOU? I WILL…."

Starscream watched in glee how the most ruthless mechs in the Autobot army were reduced to mere bundles of shivering wires and clattering armor plates under the wrath of the medic.  
He had never thought that he eventually could come to respect one of these fools – and then learn the finer art of cursing.

* * *

Some time, and much yelling later, Starscream was dragged by Sideswipe to the washracks. Sunstreaker refused to get anywhere near the dirty Decepticon when there were no cleaning supplies within reach.  
Ratchet had sent them here to clean their prisoner up. As filthy as he was now, the medic could do nothing for him, but at least the Seeker wasn't in any immediate danger. According to Ratchet's scans, the injuries were painful but not life threatening, so the still angry CMO sent them on their way with more threats and yells.

The shower rooms of the Decepticons were nothing compared to the washracks of the Autobots. Luxury was everywhere, at least in Starscream's opinion, after millions of vorns suffering under poor standards.

Typical for Autobots. He would have snorted, if he could, but his self repair-systems still struggled with the damage to his vocalizer.

Sideswipe eyed one of the water hoses, and then the thick brown and black mass coated Seeker. There was no way he would be able to clean this stuff off all by himself. And the red twin had seen how the sludge had even dribbled out of his intakes.  
The thought alone left him grimacing.

"Seems as if we have to help him." He took the hose and grabbed a hard brush from one of the shelves.  
Sunstreaker groaned, "Please tell me you aren't serious."

"Sunny! Look at him!"

"I don't want to. He is an insult to my optics."

"He is handcuffed, injured and this stuff is tough and sticky. No way can he clean himself up on his own."

"And?" Sunstreaker frowned, his arms crossed.

Sideswipe sighed and tried a low blow: "Ratchet won't be happy if he isn't presentable in an hour."

The yellow twin winced involuntarily, grabbed an arm full of cleaning supplies and, with a disgusted but determined look on his face, turned to the Seeker. Starscream glared right back, not sure if his audios were malfunctioning.  
They were kidding, right?

Right?

"How do we do this?" asked Sunstreaker, eying the mess before him up and down.

Starscream's remaining optic widened. No way were they getting near him with their Autobot, germ-infested fingers and those suspicious bottles.  
They could contain acid for all he knew.

He backed off, inch by inch, while the two warriors discussed the best methods to remove the sticky mix that covered his body.  
No way would he let them anywhere near him.  
That was… that was….

He found no words to describe his horror, disgust and indignation.

Starscream was the Second in Command of the whole Decepticon army, Air Commander extraordinaire and most feared flyer of Cybertron.

No way would he be bathed like a… a… a fragging _Sparkling_!

"Now that this is settled..." Suddendly, two sets of icy blue optics turned to the Decepticon, who by now hurried to the door as if his life depended on it. He reached it only to find it securely locked. Dread found its way in his systems as he turned and faced his two tormentors, both grinning with sadistic mirth.

"Get him!"

* * *

Starscream struggled, flailed and writhed while he shouted every insult he knew at his two torturers and their ancestors.  
This had no effect at all because his vocalizer still refused to cooperate.

He didn't even want to know why they had another pair of handcuffs in their subspace. The second pair of cuffs held his feet firm and securely together and still, and he couldn't even try to burn them with his afterburners.

And it had left such a nice scorch mark on the red mech the first time….  
And too much molten tar for his liking, now that he thought about it. Ugh, he would need days to clean his thrusters of all this slag.

One of the Autobots, the yellow one, scrubbed his back while sitting on Starscream's hips, muttering curses under his breath the whole time, while the red one tried to loosen some of the crud with one hose at the highest setting. If the Seeker stopped his seemingly endless, if silent, tirade once in a while to cool his systems – not a simple task if your intakes and vents were almost completely filled with dry tar – he could see the brown and black traces of their efforts in the water flowing off around him.

The entire washracks were by now filled with an acrid smell as the twins had progressed to using stronger and stronger cleaning agents in their battle against the stubborn mix of mud, tar and other things. Starscream was sure, if the stuff hadn't budged now, his paintjob and armor would never be the same again.

He twitched as the hard bristles of the brush grated over the outer layer of his back armor and he tried to buck Sunstreaker off his back once again. The yellow twin wasn't impressed and scrubbed some more, then he stopped suddenly and made a face: "Sides! The universe hates us… it's the Screamer."

Sides grimaced in a perfect imitation of his brother while Starscream bristled.  
Nobody had the right to call him Screamer! And by the way, he was prisoner of the friends of primary colors, so the universe hated him even more, right? What did they have against him anyway?

"You're sure it's Screamer? Not Thundercracker and you simply scrubbed his paint away or it changed its color because of the solvents?" asked Sideswipe hopefully.

"Nope… Screamer." Sunstreaker continued scrubbing while his brother moaned and whined in the background like a wounded animal.

"Bluestreak… out of all flyers to shoot… why him? Why him? I mean, you have six Seekers to chose from and still you have to down the most annoying, loudest, most insufferable, screeching, audio-cracking…."

It was hard work but Starscream managed to kick Sideswipe's shin with enough force to send him jumping around howling in pain like one of the dumb comic characters Skywarp loved to watch on the human TV.

He was quite proud of himself for that.

"Yep, definitely Screamer," was Sideswipe's final conclusion.  
He picked his hose up, grabbed a thin brush and knelt to have a better look at something Starscream couldn't see because of his position flat on the floor and with Sunstreaker on his back. One second later the flyer jerked as something found its way into the insides of his thrusters and rubbed hard against the dirt there.

He frantically turned his head from one side to the other to see exactly what Sideswipe was doing there, but had no success.  
The wires in his necks began to arch and protest, along with his vocalizer.

"You know, actually Ratchet should be thankful that we crushed his vocalizer," Sideswipe said, after poking and scrubbing the sensitive insides of Starscream's thrusters, showing no mercy and ignoring the squirming and twitching.

Sunstreaker's reply was a vacant grunt as he eyed the now shining clean armor plates on the back of the Seeker.

"I don't know anybody who's a more horrible prisoner than him. He screeches! He curses! He produces insults in a speed that others down high-grade and he never stops! I mean, how many times have we seen him saying something really offensive while standing right next to Megatron. He simply doesn't know when to shut up!"

Another grunt and Starscream really, really wanted his voice back to yell at Sideswipe that he wasn't the only one who didn't know when to keep silent. Like right now!He tried to tune the still blabbering moron out and to concentrate on…

The Seeker froze suddenly while the twins worked on without noticing anything.

His left thruster was almost clean by now and he could feel the brush on the ridges and surfaces of the insides of his thrusters quite well.

And it felt slagging _good_!

'Oh shit!' was Starscream's only thought, and he began to struggle even harder without success. He was stuck under the massive weight of the yellow twin, who by now concentrated his work on the even more sensitive wings, while the red twin had his feet in a firm grip.

Starscream could feel the heat rising in his systems already.

A silent moan of desperation escaped him, and he let his face fall onto the water-covered floor.

He was officially screwed.

* * *

"Ratchet?"

The CMO muttered something under his breath, then he turned on his comlink and answered the call: "What now?"

"Err…." The mech looked up from his medical reports and blinked his optics. That was clearly Sideswipes voice – as if it would be possible to forget a voice he heard at least once a day in his medbay, if he wanted to or not – but he sounded strange, unfamiliar.  
Horrified, yes, that was the word he was searching for.  
Horrified and a bit sheepish.

Ratchet sighed and stood up. Time to see what the Sparklings had done now….

While he hurried out of the medbay to the washracks, where the twins should be with their unfortunate prisoner, he tried to get some information out of Sideswipe. Exactly what crime had they committed now?  
And, how exactly had it backfired, if Sideswipes behavior was anything to go by.

"What have you two spawns of the Unmaker done now?"

Sideswipe seemed to hesitate. Not good.

Ratchet walked a little bit faster.

"It's Starscream."

Oh no, not him. Why couldn't they have captured Thundercracker or Thrust…. Some other Seeker whose screeches you couldn't hear throughout the whole Arc.

"What's with him?"

"I think… I think we broke him…."

* * *

Some minutes later, Ratchet stood before two fidgeting and very nervous looking twins and a sparkling clean Seeker, by now lying motionless on the floor.  
He folded his arms over his chestplates and tapped with one foot. "You _think _you've broken him?"

Sideswipe nodded slowly and tried to explain. "He struggled the whole time but then he suddenly went still. And now he's making these strange sounds…."

Under Ratchet's glare he trailed off, knowing that his explanation was worth next to nothing for the medic. He huffed in a short flash of annoyance.  
He was a warrior, not a medic. He wasn't built or programmed to know what was wrong with mechs or to describe why he even thought something was wrong in the first place.

A jab in his side reminded him of the unnaturally still form of the Seeker and he felt the pang of dread and guilt return in his Spark.  
He had often thought that the Autobots, and even the Decepticons, were better off without Starscream, but killing him while he was a prisoner of their faction?  
Without even meaning to?

Ratchet, who had knelt down beside Starscream and scanned him thoroughly, stood up again, a nasty and smug grin on his face that neither of the twins liked.

"His wing is still injured, but that I can fix. Otherwise, he's healthy, if low on energy and recharge deprived."

"But he doesn't move," insisted Sideswipe stubbornly.  
"And he sounds weird. Is his vocalizer really that damaged?", added Sunstreaker, more relaxed than his brother but still worried.

Ratchet grin grew even wider – and nastier if possible.

"He's in recharge and he purrs, my dear Sunstreaker. Who can blame him? After all he's currently a really contented bot, thanks to you two."

With these words, Ratchet left them to their confusion and made his way to the medbay to prepare it for a, for once, completely silent and cooperative Starscream.

And perhaps share one or two amusing stories with old friends….

_

* * *

_

I simply can't give the poor guy some rest.

_If anybody could explain when I use –s and when 's I would be very happy. But please in simple words or I forget it again._

_I'm not at home the next week so don't even expect a new chapter in this time._


	7. Angsty

_Disclaimer: I own nothing – at least nothing Transformers related. _

_AN: I honestly don't know where this particular chapter came from. I first wanted to write a traditional Starscream G1 angst fanfiction but then I became aware that there are so many of this kind out there… And that there was a whole show about his angsty episodes._

_So I started anew and suddenly, this thing wrote itself with the help of my fingers and my laptop…._

_Corrected by mdnytryder. Thanks._

**

* * *

**

6/28 Angsty (Movie 2007)

If he thought really hard about it, his stay here was pointless.

But then, it had been pointless to return to this disgusting little ball of space rock and organic infection to begin with.

There was no real reason that Starscream was here, imprisoned in a little cell, far away from Cybertron. Caught because of tiny – organic life was always tiny, but that wasn't important at this particular moment – younglings and their love for lethal machines and sticky finger-paints.

The iron bars in front of him crackled with blue energy whenever he touched them, but were essentially useless against his superior strength. If he wanted, he could leave this place in, perhaps, two or three days maximum, five hours if he was really lucky. All he needed to do was recalibrate and adjust his systems to neutralize the energy of the prison bars.

So, why was he still here?

Why did he accept this imprisonment without much fuss? Sure, there were some insults here and there, some threats and several really nasty suggestions about the future, but no real struggle, not even any severed limbs or scratched paint.

Why did he sit here, in the darkness of his much-too-small cell and waited patiently for the Autobots to take him outside so that he could fly a little bit?  
Supervised, naturally, with the threat of a lethal bomb right next to his Spark Casing if he left a certain area or decided to play the Decepticon version of "Tag" with the curious little human soldiers who always, _always _stood on the ground and watched him in awe, as if they never had seen a flying object before.

Humans were strange he mused, and stretched his arms to fold them behind his head. They were always watching, not only when he flew, but they also came here to goggle through the bars and to whisper to each other as if he couldn't hear them.  
They were fascinated with him, of the Decepticon who downed their best aerial war machines as if they were mere paper flyers, who ripped their plating apart like aluminum foil, who danced between the clouds, played with the winds and brought grace to warfare, normally so ugly a profession.

But it wasn't only that, they were fascinated with other things, too.

The differences between him and the Autobots for example.

Why did they fight?

Sure, there was this cube thingy, and the Decepticons were evil and had to die – that their little organic brains could comprehend. But all the finer points, the real differences, the history of the two factions and the war they had fought for millennia, this is what they kept asking questions about.

As if the concepts of tyranny and freedom were so hard to grasp.

Really.

Starscream snorted and glared up at the ceiling of his cell.  
Humans fought even now for the same reasons his race had split. The same reasons, the same views, the same perceptions of good and evil, warped and twisted by both sides beyond recognition.

And still they _wouldn't _understand that some enhanced robotic race from outer space was, at least in this respect, exactly the same as them.

Well, not exactly the same. Starscream shifted again at the thought, this time looking to the floor to hide his bitter optics.

If he were perfectly honest with himself - and he wasn't often, even he knew that - then he had to admit that Cybertronians were a lot crueler and more flawed than these little bunches of nerve clusters, bones and muscles.

Perhaps crueler than humans ever could be….

But these strange, little fleshbags had so much time in the future to develop, to grow like Optimus Prime so liked to preach.  
Starscream really wished to be around to see the face of this giant annoyance if his precious pets grew up to become the perfect image of his own race.

He would like to be around to see his horror, to see his sadness, to see the knowledge creeping over his face that this universe loved circles and repetitions, and cruel circles all the more.

He would stand there and laugh in his face, say to him "I told you so! _We _told you so!" and to mock him, that it would have been better for this world if the Decepticons had ruled it, if only to spare the former dominant race this little bit of their already fragile innocence….

He would….

He would say nothing and walk away.

Prime wouldn't need him to tell him things he knew already, and Starscream couldn't bear to see another planet tear itself apart like Cybertron.

Cybertron….

The humans were interested in external differences, too.

By now, they were used to the more humanoid appearances of the Autobots, their curves and friendly colors, their bright blue optics and more open forms.

He was still considered an exotic specimen to them, even after months of imprisonment.

They compared him to a bird sometimes, or, even more often, ancient carnivores.  
They feared his teeth, his sharp claws and his piercing red optics. Their eyes wandered over his heavy armored shape and the, at least in their view, twisted and strange limbs.  
His whole appearance screamed "Danger" and "Warrior" to them, even "Animal".

Starscream suspected the humans would never realize that even his own race had the same reaction to military class mechs like himself. Made for warfare and death, living drones who made the mistake of becoming more sentinent than they should be, more than they needed to be.

Mechs like him were fuel inefficient, dangerous, prone to violence and bloodshed and, above all, stupid and only good for the one thing they were created for.

War.

He doubted the Autobots knew that he had been a scientist once, long before the war. The only Seeker scientist, the only one of his kind who had ever obtained the right to even try to pass the acceptance test of the Academy.

But then, Starscream had no intention of telling them anytome soon.

He had disabled the bomb near his Spark some days after they first planted it - and he could live without the constant threat of death, thank you very much.

The Seeker would stay here as long as he wanted, out of his own free will and not out of fear of termination.

But now, he was back to the thought that constantly gnawed at his processor.

Why did he stay?

He could escape, he could fly back to Cybertron, he could noses hide right under the Autobot's but still he chose to stay here, in this tiny prison under their guard.

Why had he even returned to Earth?

He had sent a signal to the remaining Decepticons to inform them of Megatron's termination and the destroyed Allspark.  
Primus, he even had declared himself Supreme Commander – he had sent the message,but then he had returned to the planet he so utterly loathed.

Why?

Cybertron wasn't even so far away if he flew in a straight line and not in the strange zigzag course, jumping from planet to planet like they had before.

Why had he decided to wait here and not gather his troops to himself?

Why had he not searched after Scorponok, or forced Barricade to report to him and wait together for reinforcements?

Why had he searched for an Air base dangerously near the Autobot Headquarters, disguising himself as one of their jets, even letting the disgusting humans touch him, as long as they didn't try to fly him?

Why had he let the Autobots catch him?

Why was he still here?

Were they a substitute to the now dead Megatron and his strict rules?

Was he still here because he knew that they would be nicer to him than Barricade, the only other intelligent Cybertronian here on Earth?

Was he afraid to get lost alone in space?

Autobots always stayed together, or at least near each other, so he could be sure that another Cybertronian would always be just an insult away….

Was it because he liked the attention the humans so freely gave him?

Was it because he thought that the war was lost?

Why, why, why….

Starscream stood up as he heard the familiar sound of Prime's footsteps in front of his cell door. He didn't acknowledge the friendly greeting nor the inane gossip or whatever the tall Autobot said to him on their way out into the evening sunshine.

Why?

He was only here to learn more about the Autobots, their routines, their weaknesses, right?

Yes, that was the reason. He was sure that was it...

And when his troops finally arrived, he would leave, laughing at their stupidity, and avenge Megatron and the destruction of their home planet.

Yes, this alone was the reason he was still here.

He was sure….

_

* * *

_

I understand "Angsty" here like "Existenzangst" in German or something like that.  
I'm not even sure if I succeed in fulfilling the prompt/request, but somehow I like it.


	8. Well Shagged

_Disclaimer: I own nothing – at least nothing Transformers related. _

_AN: One last chapter for this and the coming week. Totally according to the German saying: "In der Kürze liegt die Würze."  
Translated: "Brevity is the soul of wit."_

_Corrected by mdnytryder. Thanks._

**

* * *

**

7/28 Well Shagged (G1)

Every Decepticon on Earth new exactly what had happened last night.

How could they not?

They were damn sure that even the Autobots had heard the moaning and crying, screaming and panting and other surprisingly very delicious noises their Second in Command could make if he was in the right mood.

And Primus, had he been in the right mood yesterday.

No Decepticon had really gotten any recharge, even after Starscream's vocalizer had finally blown out. Either they had to put up with the crashes and occasionally sounds from his partner that could still be heard, or because they themselves were now in the mood for some "activity", or because they puzzled about the very question that now, the day after, every 'Con asked himself, or the others around him.

Finally, someone got up the nerve to actually _ask _the most important question in the world right now:

"Who?"

Starscream, seated in front of a control panel on the bridge, spared a glance at his eager, and for once completely silent audience – in more than one meaning of the word – all willing to hear what he would say, practically drooling for all the nasty, dirty little details.

He leaned back until the chair gave an ominous creak, and put his feet comfortably on the panel. Showing himself in all his beautiful glory, and smirking this strange little smirk that no 'Con present had ever seen before - but made some of them wish, others truly _beg_ to Primus that _they _actually _had been _the mech who had shared the berth with him the night before - he said saucily,

"Wouldn't you like to know?"


	9. I Naive

_Disclaimer: I own nothing – at least nothing Transformers related. Not even the song. Pity that…._

_AN: Finally! A Beta for me. Many thanks to my new friend with the unpronouncable name: mdnytryder._

_So, I've had other related chapters before, but they can also stand for themselves. But this chapter is the beginning of something like a continuity. Not tightly related, but one builds upon the other and together they create an AU of my own at the end, even if most things are still G._

_I know there are many things similar to this chapter around the server, but hey, I never said that I would invent the wheel anew – only that I would try… . Sometimes._

* * *

**8/28 Naïve (G1 AU) I**

_Yeah, this prayer is for me tonight  
__This far down that line and still ain't got it right  
__And all in a while confessions not yet stated  
__Our next sin is contemplated  
__Never did we know what the future would hold  
__Or that we'd be bought and sold, no  
__We were innocent  
__When we were innocent…_

_Innocent by Fuel_

Starscream's first conscious memory was of a pair of ruby red optics staring down at him, while he was held by something behind his neck, what he later learned was his scruff-bar.  
The optics belonged to his Creator, a tall flyer of Seeker build, with an almost expressionless faceplate.  
The elder Seeker looked down at him, examined him from all sides, eyed his little wings, which were nothing more than tiny, excited fluttering stubs at this time, measured him and finally came to the conclusion that this Sparkling would have to do.

If the Seeker had more time and patience at hand, he would create another Sparkling to replace this one, who looked more frail than sturdy and whose annoying tiny squeaks and squeals, all at least an octave higher than they should be, hurt his audio receptors.  
But he had no other choice than the little red and silver thing in his hands, utterly unmoving because of the firm grip at his scruff-bar, but otherwise chirping, beeping and trilling, the little red optics curious and the tiny lips showing an expectant smile.

The elder Seeker felt the spark of the little creature reaching out to his own – and blocked the attempt adamantly.

He had no intention of getting emotionally attached to the Sparkling. It would only complicate their relationship as teacher and student, commander and soldier. The Sparkling would become an aerial warrior, ruthless and cold, not a sniveling mess that was constantly at his heels, begging to be hugged or something ridiculous like that.

And besides, he looked weak and his voice certainly showed some sort of malfunction in the vocalizer.

He squinted his optics a bit as the Sparkling began to cry softly, bright Energon tears staining the dark faceplate, the little hand twitching in an attempt to break the instinctual paralysis caused by the grip of the scruff-bar and to reach for the taller Transformer in front of it, to a Spark – any Spark – to feel inside its own, to warm and comfort him.

The elder Seeker sighed. Perhaps there would be a possibility in the future to make another Sparkling. Something more… fitting and useful.

He took a cup of Energon from a nearby table and offered it to the upset infant, still holding him at arm's length, as far away as possible. The Sparkling still cried, but being hungry and with nothing better to do, accepted the nourishment. When its Creator decided that it had had enough, he sat it down on the floor and went away, closing the door without so much as a last look back.

The Sparkling stared after him, still weeping and not understanding why it was so cold, why he felt so alone and simply _wrong._

His little Spark tried again to reach out to another, if not the Spark of his Creator then at least a Spark of a Caretaker, but there was nothing, only a large white room, a few old toys on the floor beside him and some colorless blankets and pillows in a corner.  
The Sparkling, now silently sobbing, understanding somehow that nobody would come to make him feel better, regardless how loud he cried, crawled to the cluster of pillows and hid himself as far away as he could from the cold world around him.

Why had the taller mech gone and had left him here all alone?  
Why didn't he come back to make it all right again?

What had he done wrong?

* * *

Starscream walked slowly down the corridor, intimidated by the huge building housing the Iacon Academy for Science.

The whole atmosphere made him feel even smaller and more useless than usual and the deeper the Youngling went into the proud Academy, the more he asked himself if the director and all the other teachers and instructors hadn't been right when they had said that a military mech like him didn't fit in an environment like theirs.

His steps faltered and he stopped at one of the windows to look longingly at the wide open sky over the golden city of Iacon.  
Perhaps he should leave right now, when he still had the chance to disappear unnoticed…

He shook his head to rid it of the depressing thoughts of hesitance, fears and doubts.  
He couldn't leave, not after all his hard work hacking countless systems to fake his age, not after he had forged the signature of his Creator to apply for the Science Academy, not after all the tests he had passed to be accepted.

Besides, he had nowhere left to go.

Starscream had run away from his Creator, who was probably glad that he had disappeared out of his life. After all, Starscream had always been a disappointment to him as far back as the Youngling could remember.

If Starscream tried to return, tailfin between his legs, he would only get angry….

And the whole plan, to go to the Academy, where his Creator would never look for him, would be entirely pointless.

He would stay. Period.

Starscream tightened his shoulder plates and formed his most arrogant expression on his features.

He could do that.

He would stay and show everybody, all the stupid science bots, that he had a right to be here and learn and that he was not worse – no, he was even better – than all the other pupils of the Academy.  
Should they laugh and insult and hate him for it, he didn't really care. He would go through with this and someday he would be the best scientist Cybertron had to offer and everyone would see how much he was worth and envy him.

Starscream puffed out his chest and turned on his heel, willing to fight against the universe itself if he had to – and stared right into the chestplates of another mech, who was easily a head taller than himself.  
And who had two equally tall and massive looking friends.

Oh Primus….

"Well, look at that. Who do we have here? A military mech in a Science Academy," one of them drawled with a nasty little grin on his faceplate.

"Not only some military type but a Seeker," corrected one of his friends with a curious look at the white and red wings, that twitched slightly at the uneasiness of their owner. The student looked to the third of the bunch: "What have we learned about Seekers?"

The tall blue and green mech rubbed his forehead with an exaggerated gesture, as if he was desperately trying to remember something. Then a delighted expression flitted above his features: "Ah, yes. Now I remember. It was so unimportant I already had it transferred in my personal junk file. Heh… Let's see. Seekers are loud, have a bad taste in paint jobs, think they are Primus' gift to femmes, have the cranial capacity of a retro-rat and the attention span of a glitch-mouse and are strictly confined to Vos and Kaon for their own safety, because there everything you have to know as a Seeker is painted in nice little pictures on great shiny markers and explained at least three times to make sure the little bird-brains understand it."

"Well done," praised the second mech.

"Now the only remaining question, my dear students, is: What the slag is this little glitch doing here in Iacon? And in our Academy?"

Starscream winced as three cruel blue gazes suddenly locked on him like a target system on his tailfin.

"Now, now…," the first mech said, a red and yellow giant of a Cybertronian with strange little spikes jutting out of his shoulders and a malicious glint in his optics. "Don't be scared, tiny… you understand, we only want to help you."

"Yes, we only want to show you your way out," the blue one agreed and grabbed one of Starscream's wings. The Youngling wanted to say something, anything, preferably something brave and threatening, but his vocalizer had clenched painfully inside his throat, still used to vorns of silence in which shouting, yelling and crying had done nothing to make things better.

"And to show you your place, you slagging little warmonger," said the third mech, his face twisted into a snarl, and grabbed the other wing.

Starscream only cowered and hoped that it would be over soon.

* * *

"What are you doing here?" The new voice wasn't overly loud, but calm and stern, with strong, hidden depths.

Starscream's three attackers looked up from their prey, their faces grimaces of disappointment and annoyance. The young flyer had switched his optics off so he couldn't see who his savior was, but he felt the other mechs release him with some complaints, insults and whining.

The Youngling used his chance to curl up into a ball, with only his wings jutting out to each site, even as he tried to press them as close to his body as possible.

It hurt….

It hurt so much….

And _he_ should be a warmonger? A violent mech who's only purpose is to injure and kill others? What kind of logic was that?

He felt tears running down his cheeks and tried to press even further into himself, away from this world he didn't understand.

Suddenly a warm and _huge _hand was placed on his shoulder and something wiped away some of the pale pink droplets. "Are you okay?" said the fourth voice, warm and… caring?

Starscream felt the other scan him for major injuries, then he heard him sigh. "Okay, I admit that was a stupid question. But do you think that you can stand up so that I can bring you to a medic?"

Starscream gave no reaction to the concerned words.

Something brushed again over his cheek and the next words sounded even closer to his audio receptors than before. "At least online your optics." His savior waited a short moment, then he tried again. "Please. They aren't here anymore, I promise. You're safe, trust me."

Trust?

Starscream hesitated a moment, then, against his better judgment, he onlined his optics, still leaking fluid. "Trust you? Why should I?" he wanted to ask, but his vocalizer only produced a pathetic croaking sound.

Perhaps it was better this way, because above him knelt the tallest Cybertronian he had ever seen, who smiled encouraging and relieved at him. If this giant would hit him, Starscream would be nothing more than a smeary spot on the floor, that he was sure of.

"See... They are gone. Nobody will hurt you anymore." The giant white mech held his hand out.

Starscream eyed the huge hand, then hesitatingly put his hand on the palm and was pulled to his feet. The giant mech, a flyer like him, perhaps a shuttle or something like that, stood up and scanned him again. Then he held his hand out again, saying, "I'm Skyfire. I'm sorry for my fellow students. They are…."  
He shrugged helplessly, his smile faltering just a little and his blue optics sad.

Starscream examined him carefully, trying to judge if this was all a cruel joke or if the white flyer was sincere. The Seeker couldn't find a trace of treachery, so he shook the offered hand timidly. "Starscream."

Skyfire used this chance to grab a hold of Starscream's hand and pull him gently, but firmly in the direction of the medbay, trying all the way to hinder the younger mech from reverting back into his shell.

"It's unusual to see a Seeker outside of Vos. Were you visiting Iacon and got lost?"Skyfire asked after a while.

Starscream, who really had begun to feel somewhat safe and comfortable in the presence of the taller shuttle, winced a little, half sad that even his new acquaintance thought that he didn't belong here. He prepared himself for the cry of outrage that would follow his answer: "No. I'm… I'm a new student here."

Skyfire was stunned for a moment and Starscream snuck his hand out of the enormous digits of the other flyer, ready to run at any moment. But then, faster than he could react, the now free hand clasped around his shoulder. "That's great! Perhaps we'll have courses together? What are your disciplines?"

Starscream looked up at the smiling face of the white flyer, absolutely stupefied at his reaction.

Was he being honest…?

Then, timidly, he answered Skyfire's smiling expression with a shy smile of his own.

* * *

Starscream could never exactly tell how long it took until Skyfire had become his best – and _only _– friend.

He didn't even know why he had trusted the shuttle to begin with. Perhaps because he was the first mech ever that had been nice to him, that had shown him any kindness.

Sure, there had been other Cybertronians that had tried to crack his protective shell of arrogance and venomous behavior, but nobody ever came close to succeeding.  
Starscream always stayed mistrustful and distant and every mech gave up after an audio full of scathing comments shrilled in a high pitch nobody could endure.  
They flew off and left the Seeker alone – except for Skyfire.

And Starscream thanked Skyfire by centering his entire life around him, even if the shuttle didn't noticed.

The big, white Cybertronian became Starscreams entire world, his universe, his pillar to lean on and to hide behind, the steady constant in his life which secured him, who showed that he mattered and that perhaps all would be all right again.

And then, suddenly, Skyfire was gone….

* * *

Starscream sat on a shattered metallic boulder on the outskirts of Kaon.

He twirled a half full cube of Highgrade in his hands, gazing into the bright neon liquid, searching for something, anything to distract himself from the lost and depressed feelings inside of him.

He was older now, no longer a real Youngling, but still not yet an adult.

His once shiny paintjob was scratched and dented, pink Energon and dark lubricant leaking from some minor wounds. The young Seeker had stumbled into a bar fight in his search for enough Energon to soak his circuits, to blow his logic chips and memory banks and to drown himself up to the intakes in a drunken, ignorant stupor.

No such luck.

He hadn't had credits to drink himself into oblivion, so he could only gaze at the landscape or the bright glowing liquid in his hands, still a victim of his dark thoughts.

Well, at least he hadn't left the bar without some positive memories. He had never thought that all the training from his Creator would someday be useful. He had always tried to bury that knowledge deep inside his CPU to disprove all the nasty remarks about him being just another violent military type.  
But today it had not only saved his life as one of the brutish groundpounders in this bar had seen him as easy prey, but it had also taught that particular idiot to never mess with him again, not if he liked his limbs attached to his body.

And how the slagger had whined and moaned on the ground, while Starscream had relished insulting and ridiculing him.

Skyfire had been right, it was always better to speak what was on his mind and not to just stay mute and let everything happen – even if Starscream was sure that this hadn't been the sort of situation that his tall friend had in mind when he told him that. Heh…

The flyer took a sip of his cube, a sad half-smile tugging at his lips, while new tears ran down his cheeks.

He would never know how Skyfire felt about his little bar fight, or that he spent his last credits on Highgrade, with no way to earn any more money. His friend would certainly be aghast if he could see Starscream now, accused of the murder of his best friend, expelled from the Academy, sitting somewhere in one of the worst areas of Cybertron, drowning his sorrow in Highgrade, while all around him raged a war he didn't even knew the purpose of. All he knew was, that military types like him were now not only disliked in Iacon anymore, but even hated.

Perhaps it would have been better if he had let the slagging groundpounder finish him. No more problems, no more guilt, no more questions nobody answered for him….

It only took the rest of the cube before he screamed his pain at the open sky above him, not caring who would hear, who would laugh about him, who would see him cry, as long as he could do something to release some of this terrible ache within his Spark:

"Primus! Why does everything go wrong? What have I done to deserve this?"

He fell to his knees, hugging himself searching for some sort of weak comfort.

"What have I done?" he sobbed, while bright tears streamed over his face.

* * *

He didn't know when he wept himself to sleep, but he awoke some hours later, with the worst hangover of his life and stiff joints, protesting painfully against his mistreatment. One simply shouldn't black out randomly on the ground somewhere. It just didn't pay off.

Starscream groaned and carefully onlined his optics, wincing as some of the few working neon lights of Kaon started fireworks inside of his head, with accompanying explosions, background music and everything….

Urrgh, and again Skyfire had been right: Everything he did, he did with overkill.

Skyfire…

The young flyer felt new tears welling up in his optics. He wished he had died of intoxication or one of the Empties had killed him for his parts.

Before he could dive further into his depression, two peds appeared in his line of vision and blocked the annoying bright lights of Kaon. Silver peds, belonging to a tall and massive mech of gladiatorial build, who looked down at him with an unreadable expression.

Starscream made no move to change his position and gazed wearily up at him. His head hurt like the pit, but he thought he remembered the big mech from the bar last night. This silver gunformer had sat in a corner and observed the crowd without entering the fighting himself.

That was odd, did he have a little purple face there, on his chest?

Starscream turned his head just a little bit to get a better look at the strange mark. White-hot pain informed him that this had been a bad idea and he offlined his optics again.

Slag, he didn't care who this was and if he liked to paint little faces on his chest, or even his shoulder or his aft. He just wanted to die and to end his misery.

The Seeker could hear metal shifting and something thumped onto the ground right before his faceplate. Half curious, half annoyed he onlined one red optic again and saw an Energon cube right in front of him.

His gaze wandered back to the silver Cybertronian, still standing above him, like some sort of weird statue. And the statue could talk. "Drink! I appreciate it if my counterpart in a conversation is at least halfway coherent."

The corner of his lips quirked slightly up to take away the harshness of the words, but his optics stayed cold and piercing.

Starscream hesitated, and then he sat up and gingerly took the cube. After a last look at the strange mech he gulped the contents down, then he waited for the gunformer to speak. The silver mech eyed him up and down, then he smiled. "There, now you look more like the capable Seeker I saw last night. You put up a good fight at that bar."

Starscream tilted his head to one side and felt his wings rise at the unexpected compliment. Did he really mean it?

"I am Megatron, leader of the Decepticons. I'm searching for mechs like you to join my army, mechs capable of standing up for themselves, able to hold their own in a fight against more powerful opponents, mechs that won't back down even if their life is in danger. And I'm certain you can outshine anyone in the sky." Megatron looked up briefly, then down again at the little flyer at his feet.

The white and red wings, even if battered and scratched, were now proudly lifted and something near to disbelief and embarrassment played on the dark features. The red optics stared for a moment in awe, then they wandered to the ground: "I've no experience in battle, sir. I'm… I was a scientist. And I don't even know what a… Decepticon?... is."

The silver mech regarded him with new interest: "I've never heard of a Seeker scientist before."

"I was the only one."

"Impressive." Starscream's wings twitched and this time the young flyer couldn't help but beam at the compliment. "But you said that you _were _a scientist. What happened?"

In no time the white wings drooped again and the smile disappeared from the dark faceplates. "The Academy expelled me. They…." He couldn't tell about Skyfire, he just couldn't. "They said, they don't want a military type like me in their ranks."

Megatron's smile only grew wider as he held his hand out to help the Seeker up. "And that's exactly what we Decepticons fight against."

* * *

Megatron, a name that would forever taste bittersweet on Starscream's tongue.

Megatron saved Starscream's life that day and filled the hole Skyfire's demise had left.

But even more, he had been the first to ever see real worth in the young Seeker, potential to encourage and mold. Even the white shuttle had thought at first that Starscream was simply lost in the Academy – Megatron believed his words that he was a scientist and saw so much more to develop and mold.

The silver Cybertronian became everything to Starscream, his world, his universe, and he would have died for him….

Surely, he would make everything all right again and soothe all the pains away.

But eventually, reality reared its ugly head and shattered all dreams and hope. Starscream would never be able to pinpoint exactly when he stopped believing in Megatron's words and promises. When he finally recognized that he was no god, not the mech he hoped him to be, when he began to hate him and when everything inside him twisted and warped.

He only knew that he was cold and disappointed again, that the Sparkling in him still cried and asked someone who wouldn't answer, why everything had gone so horribly wrong. The Youngling within screamed and begged to be heard, to be answered - "What had he done, what was his fault?" - even if the adult hissed and yelled and spilled insults and accusations everywhere and at everyone.

Starscream was still lost, still couldn't understand the world he found himself in and didn't know what to do about it.

And throughout his long life, poor Starscream wandered on and on, searching for someone, or something, to make it all right again, be it a person or power or something entirely different.

But in his search, poor naïve Starscream never realized, that there never had been an "all right" to return to.

* * *

_Some asked me who exactly was the lucky mech in the last chapter.  
__My answer: It isn't important. If I would explain it, the whole meaning of the chapter would be lost._

_There was a question about a story with Skyfire, too. Until now tall and white is only a character with cameos but I have a story in mind where he has more of a main role. Unfortunately I have no fitting prompt left, so I'm posting it as a special – if I find a working chapter title._


	10. Book Reading

_Disclaimer: I own nothing – at least nothing Transformers or Star Wars related. _

_AN: To be honest, I don't know what to think about this chapter. I like the idea, but I have problems if I have to write something with a lot of direct speech in it. I often feel silly if I write: He said this and she answered that._

_I can do it if it is not too much, but I like describing actions and telling a story more than conversations._

_And there are Star Wars influence in this chapter, I blame on my brother. He bought the books. I only read them. So don't look funny at me if you find the Jedi and the Sith Code in this chapter._

_Corrected by mdnytryder._

**

* * *

**

9/28 Book Reading (G1)

"_There is no emotion, there is peace."_

Starscream sighed as he recognized the line as the same one he had read for the third time, only – he looked at his internal chronometer – two minutes before.

His optics wandered from the inviting glowing book-cube to take in his surroundings.

He was in the brig.

After some consideration, nothing unusual for him.  
He was the ultimate traitor of the Decepticon army after all. Brig-time was something that was listed in the job description right after "being blown to bits" and "getting beaten to slag".  
If he remembered correctly, a drunken Skywarp had once actually suggested to Megatron that he name a cell after him, with a plaque and everything.

Starscream snorted.

Funny, really – if Megatron hadn't actually paused a second to consider this option.

The slagger….

But, back to his actual predicament.  
For once, he wasn't sitting in the brig of the Underwater base, screaming bloody murder at everyone and everything in reach, trying to hide his, with each passing second, growing claustrophobia - and failing spectacularly.  
But, that was beside the point.

No, this time the walls outside the energy bars were painted a _lovely _shade of orange and he had actual cell guards.  
Unnaturally quiet, subdued, and more than a bit sheepish guards – scratch that, each time they looked at him, their expressions was absolutely mortified – painted bright red and sparkling sunshine yellow, and with a sudden aversion against showers.

Starscream sniggered quietly to himself.

Oh, the looks on their faces when they had learned what they had done to him….

Priceless.

And he had thought he would be the one to be humiliated.

Even better, somehow the story had made its way around the Arc in no time, and now the twins couldn't go practically anywhere without laughter, mocking, and crude comments following in their wake.

It was somewhat suspicious that they had been assigned guard duty almost every day since he had been captured by the Autobots.  
But, perhaps even Autobot officers weren't above petty revenge after millennia of pranks and brawls.

He grinned at the thought and made a face at his silent sentinels, safe in the knowledge that they couldn't see his antics – and didn't even want to.

They never faced him, unless absolutely necessary.  
Not even their SIC had been able to change this with threats of even more guard duty.

Starscream spent some time staring at them from within his cell, and they began shifting as if they could actually feel his optics burning into their backs, then he chuckled and looked back at his book-cube.

The saboteur had given it to him as a "gesture of goodwill" as he had put it.  
Starscream rather suspected that they only had wanted him to shut up after two days of steady background screeching in the hallways, finding its way through the metallic walls of the Arc, to the living quarters and beyond.

Sometimes he really loved his voice, as unbearable as it could be even for him. The decibels he could reach with one single shriek were simply… _amazing_.

He sniggered again at the memory, then he concentrated on the written words.

"_There is no emotion, there is peace."_

Somehow ironic, he mused.

Here he sat, reading about peace of mind, while feeling strangely unsettled.

Everything felt wrong. As if there was something missing.

The sky? No, not after only a few days, he was stronger than that.

But what was it then…?

Arrgh, concentrate, Screamer, concentrate!

"_There is no emotion, there is peace."_

"_There is no ignorance, there is knowledge"_

Wow, this time he actually managed to read _two_ lines before his concentration wavered again. Impressive, Starscream, really impressive….

By the way, what the slag should this mean?

Perhaps he should ask for another book-cube? Something more interesting than this.

He looked up again and stared moodily at the energy bars of his cell.

No, he could live with this book – if he could manage to concentrate for longer than three minutes. But noooo….

He sighed and tapped with one of his fingers against the bunk he sat on.

Some minutes passed, then, "Stop that!"

Starscream grinned and lifted an optic ridge at the yellow twin who had irritatingly growled at him.

Without actually turning to look at the captive.

_Now_ he was feeling scared….  
Snort.  
Yeah, as if...

"Why should I?" the Seeker tapped some more, a new rhythm now.

The golden back stiffened and the warrior bristled visibly. A jab in his side from his brother, a look between them, and he relaxed again.

Stubborn, weren't they?

Starscream sighed.

And here he had thought he could bait them as easily into a fight as one of his comrades.

He could practically see the reactions of Motormaster, Blitzwing or one of the others if he would try to irritate them like this.

A pale smile twitched at his lips at the thought – then he frowned.

A smile? While thinking about the other Decepticons?

Eew….

He shuddered and made a vow to himself to shower at least three times when he got back to Decepticon Headquarters. Somehow the Autobot germs seemed to have managed their way past his firewalls.

But until then….

"_There is no emotion, there is peace."_

"_There is no ignorance, there is knowledge."_

"_There is no passion, there is serenity."_

He snorted.

Yeah, sure… he could practically _feel _the serenity oozing out his circuits. Really, if there was any more serenity inside this room, he would _drown _in it.

Serenity, serenity, _SERENITY!_

He looked up as a grey Autobot shuffled into the brig, a cheerful smile on his face. "Hey Sunstreaker, Sides! I'm only here to see how you are doing. You know, all the others say that you will break before Starscream does. From claustrophobia, I mean. You see, he is a flyer and flyers hate confined spaces…. Well, anyway, they say you will break from embarrassment and beg Prowl to release you from guard duty. By the way, Prowl still sniggers from time to time if Jazz mentions the incident in the – err, you know, what I mean. It's really creepy. Like this one guy in this film. The really creepy one…. There is a betting pool now, you know, and the odds are really high – against you. Not that they don't have any trust in your endurance, but…. Jazz bets ten cubes of high-grade that you will lose it tomorrow and you know that he wins his bets, like, always. Like the last time with this race. You remember the race? That was fun…. Anyway, I'm only here to wish you guys good luck and to see how you are doing."

Starscream blinked.

There went serenity.

It died without a struggle, bloodily tortured to a cruel and painful death by one single Autobot whose mouth wouldn't shut up, even if his life would depend on it.

May it rest in peace and quiet….

The Seeker looked back at his book-cube while Bluestreak babbled on and on….

"_There is no emotion, there is peace."_

"_There is no ignorance, there is knowledge."_

"_There is no passion, there is serenity."_

"_There is no chaos, there is harmony."_

Okay, that was it.

What the frag?

No chaos? Whoever had written this book really must have been glitching because there was no way Starscream could imagine that anyone would give up all the fun in his life only for a little bit of _harmony_.

Seriously, a universe without chaos would be… that would be….

Like everything the Autobots ever wanted.

Oh… yeah….

Now he got it.

This innocent looking little book-cube was the newest attempt by those peace-loving slaggers to convert all the big, bad, _misguided_ Decepticons out there to their pure and heartwarming beliefs – or it was a new, extremely subtle way of torture and these words would corrode their way inside his processor, leaving him babbling words like "peace" and "harmony" nonstop, with a deluded, honey-sweet little smile on his face and neon-pink optics while he couldn't read further than these fragging FOUR LINES!

"ARGH!"

With a frustrated scream he flung the cube far away and lay back down on his bunk.

Three pairs of baby-blue optics watched him with a deer-in-the-headlights look, startled by his sudden outburst. Bluestreak had even stopped babbling and stood with his jaw wide open.

It would have been funny – if Starscream hadn't been so frustrated.

"You okay?"

"Frag off!" Was the only reply the young gunner got.

Hurried steps could be heard from outside the brig and only moments later Jazz, followed by some Minibots, came into the room.  
"Blue! Please, don't tell me they lost it already. I've bet two more cubes on tomorrow, just an hour ago," whined the saboteur, looking aroung eagerly, dreading to find the sight of two bodies on the floor, offlined from embarrassment.

No such luck.

The twins were still online and very, very angry at the black and white mech.

"Twelve cubes now, Jazz? My, aren't we a little bit too optimistic today?"  
Usually, you could count on Sideswipe to lighten the mood and be a nice guy who would never say anything against a tiny bet or two – but now his dignity was on the line, and that meant war, even if it was one of his best friends.

The saboteur took a wary step back and held up both hands in defense, "Whoah, don't be like this. It's only a bet, Siders. Nothing serious."

"Yeah, Siders, nothing serious. You heard the mech," growled Sunstreaker with narrowed optics. "Seriously, how could you ever consider he would really mean it, when he says that we couldn't survive three days of Screamer unharmed?"

"Yeah, how could I…." Where once two pairs of optics were a lovely shade of baby-blue, they now glittered with the icy color of a glacier and the glares were as cold as one.

Starscream sat up and observed the situation with rapt attention. Suddenly the strange weight on his shoulders lightened and his Spark almost danced in its casing after three long days of sulking and moping.

He decided to add his own two cents into the conversation, "And here I thought Autobots would swear by such values as comradeship and friendship. Seems to me as if you aren't as dedicated to such trivial things as you always claim to be."

Jazz, still trying to bring the situation under control, shot him an annoyed glare, "Shut up, Screamer!"

"Why? Don't tell me, that you can't stand the truth. I'm aghast." He touched his chest-plate with a mock-shocked expression. "Another value that isn't held as high as I thought?"

"Starscream…." The threat never left Jazz' mouth as Sunstreaker cut him off with a furious gesture. "You know, he is right! Your idea of friendship leaves a lot to be desired, Jazz!"

"It doesn't and you know it. You're overreacting, guys. It's just a bet, an innocent, little bet," the words of the saboteur fell on deaf audios.

By now, more and more Autobots had swarmed into the brig, drawn there by all the shouting. Some tried to soothe the heated minds, some only wanted to see a fight, some argued for Jazz' side of the quarrel and some for the twins.

A particular brave Minibot planted himself before the energy bars and glared fearlessly up at the sniggering Decepticon inside the cell.

"Shut up, Deceptiscum. Before I come and make you! This is all your fault anyway!"

"Make me? You and what army, short stuff?" Starscream chuckled at the mere thought of the little pipsqueak trying to take him on.

Cliffjumper bristled, "I don't need an army! I can defeat anybody!" Starscream grinned wickedly, "Really?" A curt nod and two lifted fists were the answer.

"Good," the grin only grew wider.  
The Seeker searched the agitated crowd for a certain red warrior, then he yelled on top of his vocalizer, "Hey, Sideswipe! Tiny here thinks he can beat you single-handed. Don't tell me you're gonna let this go and run away from this pipsqueak with your tailpipe between your legs!"

The red twin turned around as if he had been hit right between the shoulder plates, and icy optics locked on Cliffjumper's position.  
"Oh no, I won't. This squirt had this a long time coming!" with a loud roar he jumped at the red Minibot, who was either too brave or too stupid to move – Starscream was fairly certain it was the latter, even if Cliffjumper had other ideas.

This action was the last incentive the other mechs needed: An all out brawl started.

Starscream watched the show for some minutes, laughing his aft off, then he settled back onto his bunk, retrieved his book-cube from the floor and scrolled through the first part of the introduction until some lines caught his optics.

He smirked.

Now, this was more like it.

"_Peace is a lie, there is only passion."_

"_Through passion, I gain strength."_

"_Through strength, I gain power."_

"_Through power, I gain victory."_

"_Through victory, my chains are broken."_

"_The Force shall free me."_

He looked up one last time, marveling at the free-for-all in front of his cell, reveling in the familiar sounds and atmosphere, and felt strangely comforted, as if he would be ho-… at Decepticon Headquarters again.

Then the Seeker, finally, concentrated fully on his book….

_

* * *

_

I renewed the poll in my profile.

_I know that this is somewhat unfair because of all the results I left unacknowledged, but there are many prompts I finally have a fitting story for and many readers who already had voted and now have a chance to do it again._

_So please, tell me, what you want to read._


	11. Naughty

_Disclaimer: I own nothing – at least nothing Transformers related. _

_AN: I'm glad you liked my last chapter so much.  
__Your reviews were wonderful and I'm happy to have so many great readers and even more grateful to have such an understanding and patient Beta.  
__By now you have convinced me to post "Monster" anew as its own story. _

_Some of you asked me about a possible sequel.  
__There will be one, named "What Else Is Left?", but I'm still lacking some ideas, so it will be some time until I post it._

_Thanks to mdnytryder for correcting this chapter._

**

* * *

**

10/28 Naughty (G1)

After Megatron called "Retreat!" the procedure was the same every time.

The injured Decepticons took to the air, clutching various injuries, insulting the cheering Autobots, and flew home to lick their wounds.  
Some would do it quietly, and some would not, like Starscream who used every chance given to moan and bitch and rant about how all of this would have never happened if he was the leader and not Megatron.

Most Decepticons had learned to tune him out by now.

But the fact that the other Seekers had joined his whining was unusual.

All of them were dented and scratched, the work of two certain Lamborghinis with egos the size of Cybertron's moons, and who had become insufferable over time.

At this particular moment, it was Thrust who complained the loudest about a mangled wing.  
"Look at what this red mud-gorger did to my wing! My wonderful, precious, beautiful, perfect wing! It will never be the same again! And I would have fought so brilliantly in the last battle if not for those two idiots!"

Thrust's whining was annoying but usual, and no reason for worry as far as the other Decepticons were concerned. He held the distinction of being the second worst loudmouthed coward after all, right behind his own Air commander.

But hearing Thundercracker – calm, reasonable, quiet Thundercracker, the one exception to the rule that all Seekers were a few circuits short a motherboard – ranting about the Autobot twins and their various insults to his person as well, was just too much to bear for most of the non-jetformers of the Decepticon army.

They hurried to put some distance between themselves and their six winged colleagues.

Perhaps their condition was contagious and they all would end ups as bitching and whimpering little Starscream-imitations?  
Who knew?

"I really have had enough of them calling me Decepti-chicken, Cyber-turkey or Techno-vulture whenever they see me!" The blue Seeker growled in a low tone, sending vibrations through the air with his engines. "And my sonic boom certainly has _NOTHING _to do with indigestion!"

As if to prove this statement, the air around him exploded into sound and shockwaves, leaving the other Seekers struggling to stay airborne as their gyros were sent spinning.

"Don't ever do that again!" snarled Ramjet as the world around him finally stopped swirling.  
His belly was scratched badly, with painful looking marks where stones and rocks had been imbedded when he had crashed.

"Why not? Are you afraid you'll crash, huh? As if you'd need my help for that!" challenged Thundercracker hotly and the air began to vibrate again.

"His constant crashing wouldn't be a problem, if he would manage to hit a proper target sometimes," murmured Dirge gloomily.  
"But noooo…. Those pitspawned twins even painted bulls eyes on their afts this time and still he sailed right past them and into Devastator's leg, costing us the victory." He sighed gravely. "They will never fear us again, never..."

"As if they had ever feared you to begin with," scoffed Skywarp.  
"Face it! Nobody is scared of you and your "Engines of Doom". Primus, not even the squishies do as much as twitch now when you fly over them. Perhaps you should change your image? Next time land and laugh insanely! _That _will have them staring!"

The purple and black jet yelped when Dirge whacked him with one dented wing over the nosecone.

"I would be quiet if I were you, Skywarp!" the Conehead stated dangerously.

The other Seeker snorted unimpressed, "Thank Primus, that you're not me."

"My sentiment exactly," murmured Thundercracker who shuddered at the thought of two purple morons running around and pranking everything in sight.  
Thrust, who flew beside him, snickered evilly.

Dirge continued as if nothing had happened, "At least dumb and dumber aren't placing bets as to when _I _will splinter myself with one of my teleports!"

Skywarp shuddered violently. The thought alone set his tanks churning.

"I'm good at what I do. That will never happen," he stated firmly, trying to reassure himself.

The other jets snickered. "Keep telling yourself that."

"Hey, Skywarp," hollered Ramjet suddenly. "Look, I've found your CPU! Unicron's spawns were right: You really left it behind after teleporting a few days ago. Aw, it's so cute and tiny…. Can I keep it? You don't seem to need it!"

"SHUT UP, SCUMJET!" Roared Skywarp over the laughter of his fellow Cons.  
If he hadn't been so slagging exhausted after three hours of nearly constant jet judo and dodging shots, he would have helped Ramjet to live up to his name – again.

Instead he gained some speed and placed himself beside his Air commander, hoping against better judgment for some help and sympathy, "Screamer! They are mocking me again! Tell them to stop!"

Starscream - the once golden canopy reduced to a few glittering shards sticking here and there out of the edge of his cockpit, his nosecone currently reminding one of an oversized accordion, and his ailerons showing rips from the stress of holding too much weight in the air with too little wingspan - didn't answer.

In fact, he had been awfully and unusually quiet the whole time, now that Skywarp thought about it.  
Perhaps he had been more damaged than he first let on?

The red and white Seeker really had been the unlucky Con of today's battle.

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker had used Dirge and Thundercracker as lifts to jump onto the unsuspecting Air Commander's back, smashing his canopy in the progress. While clinging with one hand each to the sensitive wings of the bucking, cursing and screeching Seeker, they suddenly had taken glue coated weights out of their subspace with their free hands and proceeded to stick them all around Starscream's body, laughing like the loons they were as the jetformer shrieked in naked panic when his wings failed to keep the three Cybertronians and the extra burden airborne.

The twins had saved themselves with Sideswipe's jetpack, landing safely and out of reach behind their own lines, amongst cheering comrades, while Starscream had made painful contact with the next cliff.

Fortunately he hadn't flown very high to begin with, but the crash must have hurt like the pit.

Even now Skywarp couldn't help but wince in sympathy when he thought about the painful jolts the air current must be sending through the red and white wings, straight into his Commander's cranial unit where it would supposedly mutate into the mother of all processor aches.

The black and purple Seeker hesitated, then he nudged his wingmate gently with a wingtip, hoping that Starscream didn't need all his concentration to just stay airborne, "Starscream? You okay?"

By now, the other Seekers had noticed the odd behavior of their leader, and focused all their functioning sensors on the white, red and blue jet, wondering if they would have to catch him any second.

But Starscream didn't fall.

In fact, he began to chuckle suddenly.

"I'm fine…. No, in fact, I'm feeling _great_!" His chuckling changed into a mad cackling that sent his fellow jets desperately backing off.

"Are you sure?" Asked Thrust timidly from his safe place behind Thundercracker and Ramjet.

"Yessss!" purred Starscream with a clear grin in his tone.

"I… have a plan!" He declared proudly. "And for once it will work perfectly!"

The other Seekers hesitated for a moment, but Starscream didn't seem to be talking about a new attempt to overthrow Megatron and if he had an idea how to put these obnoxious, overbearing ground-pounders down a notch or two….

They flew as close up to him as they dared and began to silently talk over their com links.

Soon five different voices joined the first in wild laughter full of anticipation.

The twins would never knew what hit them, but they had it coming for a long time and perhaps they would finally learn to treat the Seekers with the appropriate amount of respect.

The other Decepticons, hearing the laughter, exchanged wary glances and looked to Megatron, searching for help, guidance, or at least an explanation to what happened.

But the silver behemoth just flew faster and made sure he didn't turn around.

Sometimes he just didn't want to know….

* * *

"Everything prepared and accounted for?"

It was the tenth time that Starscream asked this particular question but no Seeker could resist the chance to crow "Check!" through the com link again in expectant glee. Even Dirge sounded hopeful and excited.

Starscream grinned evilly and rubbed his hands, "Then let operation 'Sweet Revenge' begin!"

* * *

It was a battle like any other.

Insults and laser shots flew, metal smashed against metal, the usual speeches and catch phrases were heard and Sunstreaker and Sideswipe had the time of their lives.

The red twin held onto Skywarp for dear life, hollering insults and taunts at the top of his vocalizer, while his pedes left deep and painful dents near the purple and black jet's tail and the tight digits scratched the surface of his wings.

"Hey, Warpy! What's the matter? Are you giving up already? Aw, come on! Let a poor bot have some fun, here! You are the dumbest and lamest rodeo bull I've ever ridden and that's an insult to every honest cow out there! YEEHAH! FOR WORLD PEACE AND MARHSMALLOWS!"

'What the frag? Marshmallows?' Skywarp was stunned for a moment, then he remembered that no Decepticon cared if his supposed victim was an old mech, a Youngling or an immature spawn of everything that is bad and unholy with ten chips short a halfway functioning, glitch-ridden processor, and smirked mentally.

"I was just getting into position," he said just loud enough for Sideswipe to hear above his own whoops of delight.

"Into position for what?" Asked the red rose of rowdiness curiously. "You look bad wherever you crash, no offence, but even a field of flowers couldn't change that, Warpy-boy!"

Skywarp didn't rise to the taunt, only his inner grin got wider and nastier, "You'll see!"

And with that both mechs simply vanished from the battlefield.

* * *

Sunstreaker didn't notice the sudden disappearance of his brother, but then again, he was busy with far more important things...

Currently, the yellow menace sat onto Starscream's back with his arms deep inside the smashed golden canopy, digging his fingers painfully into the sensitive interior of the cockpit, ripping various pieces out of the shrieking and crying jet and throwing them away in wild abandon, an ugly sneer on his handsome face.

Starscream really, _really_ never had wanted to hear Thrust's voice as dearly as now, in this exact moment, as Sunstreaker twisted his hand inside his internals and _pulled _at something the red Seeker didn't even want to think about.

"Screamer? Pitspawn number one is safe and secure in his new home and we're awaiting your arrival."

"Thank Primus, _finally_!" The tortured Seeker exclaimed and shot off, Sunstreaker clinging to his back and cursing up a storm.

The Air commander left the battlefield behind, ignoring the different shouts and com calls of his abandoned comrades, putting more and more space between himself, his "guest" and the two factions. His internals hurt like the pit and he could feel sparks scorching the few things that had escaped Sunstreaker's wrath.

Driven by rage, pain and a burning lust for vengeance, he arrived at the meeting point in no time, a deep and narrow canyon, that wove like a snake through the barren landscape.

He dove down, gaining even more speed, shooting through the tight turns like lightning, the edges of his wings almost scraping the walls, Sunstreaker screaming bloody murder on his back.

Three more turns, the shouts of the Autobot constantly in his audios, then he stopped as abruptly as he could, flipping over and catapulting the surprised yellow twin right off his back and into a waiting net of reinforced titanium cables.

Thrust and Ramjet secured the prey and moved to the side, where Thundercracker, Dirge and Skywarp stood beside another net, which held Sideswipe utterly and totally immobile.

Starscream landed and transformed with painful moans.

His cockpit leaked Energon and coolant that streamed down his armor and gathered in a little bluish pink puddle by his feet, crackling with dying energy.

The other Seekers winced in sympathy at the sight.

"If I ever say again, 'I will take on Sunstreaker,' just shoot me." He ordered and began to pick glass shards out of his internals, each time flinching when he found one.

When he noticed that his subordinates still stood around, staring with wide optics at his gruesome task, he snarled in annoyance, "What are you looking at? Never seen a fellow Seeker suffer before? Do you want a live show on how I clean my innards or have you forgotten our two "guests" and our plan? You have work to do, _misters_!"

The five flyers had the decency to look sheepish at the scolding, then they hurried with big, nasty grins to set their revenge into motion.

Two of the Coneheads made a great show of taking syringes and little flasks with a yellowish liquid out of subspace and stepped slowly closer to their two captives who shared uneasy glances. Skywarp and Ramjet vanished behind the next bend, their snickering and whispering still clearly audible.

Thundercracker hesitated for a moment, and then he went to his Commander to help him repair his wounds.

Sideswipe looked to his brother and saw the same barely hidden fear in Sunstreaker's ice-blue optics that he himself felt.  
He would have gulped, if it had been anatomically possible.

He gathered his remaining courage and asked quietly, "Are you going to kill us?"

Thundercracker and Starscream glanced up from their activity, while Dirge and Thrust halted in their steps to look back at their leader.

"No, we won't."

The red and white Seeker straightened his shoulders, puffed out what remained of his chest and stepped in front of the two nets which slowly swayed from side to side, both pairs of blue optics on his proud form.

Starscream put his arms akimbo and stated, "_This _is _neither _about the war _nor _about factions."

He lifted a single finger in the air and fixed the twins with a stern ruby red glare.

"_This..." _he paused for effect." is a matter of _principle_!"

All flyers cheered in approval, their voices uniting to the ultimate sound of doom in the twin's audios.

Starscream turned around and stepped back to Thundercracker to let him examine his cockpit. He gave a dismissive wave over his shoulder and called, "Gentlemechs! Inject the paralyzing agent!"

Dirge and Thrust grinned evilly and saluted, "Yes, sir! With pleasure, sir!"

The twins somehow managed to gulp this time.

* * *

Soft snickers echoed throughout the canyon, were hushed again, only to resume some seconds later muffled through hands and shoulders of comrades who shook in mirth themselves.

Optimus Prime tried to swallow his laughter, but his optics shone brightly in hidden glee.

His determination to remain stoic was put to the test when Ratchet arrived on the scene, finished with the task of treating the last of the wounded on the battlefield some kilometers from here.

The medic took one long glance at the sight that had all other Autobots rooted to the spot, then he fell to the ground guffawing, shouting something unintelligible that Prime roughly translated into "They had it coming! I knew it! Primus, thank you! They had it coming! I'm not fixing them this time! They had it coming! Brilliant!"

With that, the spell was broken and the other mechs broke down into helpless laughter at the expense of the two poor Autobots still swaying to and fro in their tight prisons.

But it really was a sight to behold.

Both nets hung about a mix of hay, straw, branches, wires and cables forming an enormous nest, which was dusted with bright sunshine-yellow and flame-red flakes of paint. In the middle of said nest, glittering innocently in the light of the midday sun, lay two, giant metallic eggs, one red, one yellow.

The sources of the brilliant flakes of color all around the two eggs were unmistakable.

The twins had been stripped violently of all their paint – one could only imagine how Sunstreaker had whined about his invaluable, precious, wonderful, glossy finish – only to be painted anew in a brilliant Decepticon purple.

But, in addition to this humiliation, the individuals responsible for the twins' dilemma had covered them in glue and red and yellow feathers, and painted a large Decepticon symbol on the canyon wall behind the unfortunate mechs, right below a message reading, "Who's the chicken now?"

Prime withstood his own laughing fit with an admirable strenght of will and managed to choke out, nearly losing it at the sight of Sideswipe flashing enraged optics over a neon red metallic beak, "Do you have anything to say about this… incident?"

Sideswipe opened his beak and stated, "_Cluck!_"

_

* * *

_

Once upon a time, this little story would have been "Kick Ass.". Sorry, but the new "Kick Ass" will follow but without the twin's involvement.

_Why did this chapter happen?_

_You all should search for chapters with the twins here on this site. Most times you will find stories in which the two hellions win against the Seekers and ridicule them in the process. I love their pranks and attitude as much as any other reader here, but I thought it was time for a little change – and sweet, sweet revenge._


	12. Kick Ass

_Disclaimer: I own nothing – at least nothing Transformers related. _

_AN: All at the end this time. I have my reasons._

_Thanks to mdnytryder for correcting this chapter._

**

* * *

**

11/ 28 Kick Ass (pre G1, Cybertron, Beginning of the war)

A pale, glittering shadow crept slowly through the narrow turns of an air duct, inch by inch closing in on his unsuspecting prey.

Wine-red optics glanced at almost invisible markings in the dull metal of the shafts and recognized the correct signs, leading him further into one of the most secure bases the young, but already infamous Decepticon faction had to offer.

The mech felt pride well up inside him. Here he was, in the heart of Decepticon territory, in the newly built fortress Dark Mount, about to assassinate the Supreme Commander himself.

And nobody was, or would ever be the wiser.

He grinned in anticipation, a short flash in the near darkness of the tunnels, and began to work with nimble fingers at the grating that covered the opening to the next part of the air ducts. Screws were loosened and caught before they would hit the metallic bottom of the shaft with a treacherous clang.

The mech crawled on, his sleek form winding around tight turns with an almost effortless agility, his only concern the protrusions on his back, which scraped now and then over the metallic walls. Faster and faster he crept forward, pumps pounding and his Energon rushing through his lines.

Almost there, almost….

Only minutes until he would fire the final shot at his unsuspecting foe, and become a legend.

The Slayer of Megatron.

It tasted like the finest high-grade on his tongue.

Just two more turns and he reached his destination, a grating at the bottom of the tunnel, leading right into the personal quarters of the Slagmaker himself.

His fingers trembled slightly as he unscrewed the grate, leaning it against one of the walls around him.  
The mech slid down the opening, and spotted his target sitting at a desk, the silvery back turned to him.

Another gleeful, almost maniacal grin appeared on dark lips.

The assassin unsubspaced his rifle, lifted it, aimed and waited one last, eternally long second.

Now….

Suddenly a hand shot into his view, triggering the safety on his rifle and preventing him from securing his rightful place among the legends of their kind.

The assassin stupidly opened his mouth in surprise and protest, but he never got a chance to utter even one single sound.  
A second hand slid over his mouth, while the first disappeared out of his field of view and hit against his throat effectively crushing the vocalizer within.

The sudden pain reminded the intruder what, and more importantly where he was, and the terrible danger he was now in.

He jerked back, trying to loosen the hands on him, but his assailant swept one leg into the backs of his knees and the young mech's legs buckled. He saw a silvery white shape in front of him whirling from one leg to the other, then a hard kick against his chest sent him flying against a wall and his armor cracked audibly.

The impact had his processor spinning and his fuel pumps reeling, so he only could watch helplessly as the pale, winged shape of his attacker closed in on him to loom above his immobile form, one hand on his hip, the other carelessly hanging at his side, the optics narrowed to bright ruby slits in a flawless dark face.

"Who sent you?"

The assassin knew the owner of this raspy voice.  
What Decepticon wouldn't?

Starscream was well known among his subordinates for his prowess in battle (second only to the Supreme Commander himself), his loyalty to the cause and his status as Megatron's Second in Command of his young army and personal bodyguard.

The young mech on the ground also knew, that even if he stayed silent and endured every torture Starscream inflicted upon him, his clients wouldn't escape the white and red Seeker. Either he would find them himself, after "questioning" everybody the captured assassin had ever come in contact with, or he would set Soundwave and his infallible telepathy to the task.

Everybody who had paid to see Megatron dead had already lost their lives. They just didn't know it yet.

"Redhand," the assassin sent over his com link, his optics never wavering from the white mech in front of him. He could feel the antennae on his back quivering in fear, but also in anticipation.

There was no greater honor for a traitor like him then to die at the hands of Starscream, Megatron's faithful and valued SIC, his right hand.

The blazing red optics regarded him for a moment, then the Seeker nodded and his hand slipped from his hip.

The assassin barely had time to see the flick of a light blue wrist and the soft shimmer of a blade, as his Spark was extinguished soundlessly.

* * *

Starscream stepped away from the bleeding corpse of graying metal, reminding himself to have a cleaning crew come later, then he turned on one heel and stepped soundlessly behind the still sitting Megatron, knife still in his hand dripping with pale pink Energon.

"Good work," murmured the warlord, not even bothering to look at his bodyguard, as he continued to observe numerous datapads filled with calculations, troop movements and diagrams.

He jerked away from his work as the blade was rammed in the table only inches in front of his right hand.

The silver gunformer glanced to his right, into Starscream's face, which was suddenly so close to his own that he could feel the slight warmth radiating from the dark faceplates.

"Exactly how long do you think you can continue like this?" hissed the Seeker, not looking at his superior and friend.

Megatron narrowed his optics, "What do you mean?"

Starscream turned his head to look at Megatron's profile.  
"He was about to kill you! And you knew that he was here. He was louder than a drunk and horny Skywarp in a room full of femmes!"

Crimson optics flashed in barely contained rage as the Seeker shouted at his leader, "Why didn't you do _anything_!"

Megatron turned his head and leaned back slightly to have a better look at the dark face, alive in vivid fury.  
"You were here," he stated, sounding confused by this sudden outburst from his SIC.

Starscream stared at him for a moment, then his optics flashed in white-hot rage.

In one fluid motion, Megatron felt the cool metal of the blade against his throat.

"That…," the Seeker palpably struggled to hold his emotions in check, even if the hand with the knife was perfectly still.

"That is no reason, Megatron…. _My _presence shouldn't have mattered to you! _You _should have been the one who caught and killed him, to teach everybody out there that you can't mess with the Decepticons and their mighty leader…. But YOU ONLY SAT THERE!"

Megatron winced at the high, irritated roar directly beside his audio sensors. The blade at his neck nicked his metallic skin and drew drops of bright Energon.

By now, the Decepticon leader was more than just a little uneasy about the situation – but he trusted Starscream daily with his life, and firmly believed that the Seeker didn't want to kill him.

So he stayed silent and gave the winged mech time to cool down.

Starscream cycled several deep intakes to calm himself, then he continued in a lower and, far more controlled tone, even if the underlying venom and rage still remained, "What if I hadn't been here, Megatron?"

The silver gunformer opened his mouth to reply that Starscream would always be there, in time – but the Seeker was far from being finished.

"Megatron, _what _exactly do you think you are? A simple leader? Somebody this army could replace at any time? I'm sorry to destroy your illusions, but it isn't _as EASY _as you think it is…. You are _not _only our leader, Megatron, you are… our symbol, our dream, our hope, our _only_ future! YOU CAN'T DIE! NOT YET!

"If you would die now, the whole Decepticon army would shatter into what they were at the very beginning.  
Misfits, criminals, dreamers of a new life as a glorious race dominating galaxies, without a suppressing, corrupted government.

"We _can't _survive without you!

"What if I hadn't been there, Megatron?

"Sure, there are better leaders out there, smarter mechs, stronger fighters, more clever tacticians – but _you _stood in front of us all and promised us hope when we felt there was nothing left for us. _YOU _spoke to us of a new Golden Age for all, of a Cybertron brilliant like a sun in its glory, ruling the whole universe in its superiority!

"YOU! Not them.

"You and Optimus Prime, you are what embodies everything either Decepticon or Autobot. Without you, this whole war would be over immediately. You don't have time to trust others with your safety, regardless how loyal they proved to be in the past.

"You must constantly watch your back and fill all the Spark around you with your dreams and goals, until every Decepticon out there becomes a living symbol of our cause and you truly are the leader you think yourself to be!

"But you must make haste, Megatron, before Prime beats you to it and his own dream learns to fly and spreads like the disease it is and damn us all to the life we sought to escape. Before he and every other dead Autobot becomes a martyr to their beliefs and each death will only fuel the fire of their hopes….

"So wake up from your happy, little illusions Megatron, and finally behave like the symbol you are to all of us!"

Pain lanced through Megatron's throat where the blade had dug in deeper each time Starscream had raised his voice.  
A steady flow of Energon trickled down his chest armor, but the silver mech just couldn't bring himself to care.

He stared ahead, not really seeing anything.

"What if I can't be this symbol you speak of, Starscream?" he asked quietly after a time.

The blade disappeared as quickly as it had found its way to the silvery neck and the Seeker retreated.  
Megatron could feel his gaze burning into his back.

"Then I will do what I have to do and force you to be it! We have gone too far and lost too much to lose now."

The Supreme Commander lowered his head and offlined his optics.

And Starscream, Second in Command of the Decepticon army, and Megatron's best friend, left.

* * *

Five assassination attempts later, Megatron lost a loyal soldier, good friend and trusted confidant forever….

He gained a constant reminder instead, a reminder of all the things he was and wasn't, in the shape of a Seeker with burning red eyes, always haunting him with his greatest failure. A conniving SIC who forced him to constantly watch his back, to secure his place on the top with an iron fist and an almost paranoid vigilance, a traitor giving him again and again the chances he needed to prove his superiority to his own troops and ignite the fire of his beliefs in them.  
Somebody who forced him to accept the symbol that he was and to act accordingly...

Megatron was grateful and ashamed each time he witnessed the sacrifice Starscream had made for the sake of the Decepticons and all of Cybertron, and he longed for the day he finally could show his gratitude, either through praising his SIC as the loyal warrior he truly was – or by granting him a swift and painless death, freeing him from this horrible life filled with shame and staged treachery.

Megatron longed for the day he would become the leader he once believed himself to be….

_

* * *

_

AN: So….

_How many of you thought the assassin to be Starscream? Hands in the air, guys! I want to see your sheepish faces!_

_Once again some explanation to this chapter.  
To me, "Kick Ass" not only means some cool moves and an Energon covered landscape, but, I think it can work for a verbal "beating" as well. And because I read somewhere once, that Starscream was Megatron's bodyguard for some time, this little chapter took shape. _


	13. Dancing

_Disclaimer: I own nothing – at least nothing Transformers related. _

_AN: Once upon a time…. Ah, scratch that, you all know the deal. _

_As usual, this should have been rather simple. Then I read something about "Vos was ruled by a shadowy cabal with Starscream as its figurehead." (Transformers-wikia)__  
I only thought: **Cabal**?_

_And so my poor, simple, little, innocent story turned into a full-blown study about Seekers (and Coneheads)…._

_Thanks to mdnytryder for correcting this chapter._

**

* * *

**

12/28 Dancing (G1, pre Earth)

_Before the beginning of time, there was Nothing._

_There was neither light nor dark nor existence at all, just Nothing._

_But because Nothing is a paradox in itself, being nothing and something at once, it collapsed into itself and two entities resulted._

_One of these beings was pure creation, life and death, chaos and order, together in harmony, and it named itself Primus._

The other being just was, and before it could discover a reason to be, it looked at the other entity and felt envy, hate, and the urge to be more than the other, and to taint the very purpose of Primus' existence.  
This entity disappeared to somewhere unknown to any Cybertronian and was never seen again.

_Primus created Cybertron to give his future children a place to feel at home, to be sheltered and nurtured. And then, he created the skies and the never-ending universe around it, to let his blessed children be free._

_He created the first twelve Cybertronians and the thirteenth, who has fallen, and will never be named again by any mortal mech._

And with the help of the first twelve, he created more of his children and gifted them with a part of his own essence, with a Spark, and they began not only to exist, but to truly live, to experience and shape the world he had built for them and to form their own physical shapes.

_They loved their home and praised Primus for his goodness, but every time they looked to the sky, they could only wish and dream, and not even their dreams were anywhere near the freedom that Primus had created for his blessed children._

_So Primus created a new kind of Cybertronian, with wings to feel the expanse of the universe and a spirit longing for the skies of every world.  
He gifted them with the ability to fly, with curiousness and the will to explore, with braveness to conquer the unknown and the courage to withstand even the wildest of storms. And he blessed them with the gift to truly dream and make these dreams come true._

_They were the only ones that truly could experience and understand the freedom he had envisioned for his children, and every second of their existence was a never-ending hymn in his honor._

_But Primus knew that these first flyers would be not easily accepted and forever alone  
Their ground-bound brothers could not understand their vivid natures and longing for the skies, their strong spirits and their need to be what they wanted to be.  
Even their brothers and sisters of the skies could not relieve this solitude, then freedom is endless, and therefore lonely._

_So he formed their Sparks out of the very core of his essence and forged an unbreakable bond between every single one of them._

A bond so strong, that as long as at least two of his blessed children lived, they would never be completely alone in the universe.

_It was no Sparkbond, nor brotherbond, nor twinbond, nor Gestaltbond, and no ground-bound mech nor flyer who isn't a Seeker would ever understand its nature nor would they ever learn about it._

_Because it was Primus' sacred gift for his truly blessed children, for these who seek their dreams in the distance and still find their home in their own Spark each time they need strength or reassurance, who are never alone and will never be, because we are one and nothing at all in Primus' endless freedom._

* * *

Starscream let himself fall into a wild spiral, catching his fall only inches over the silvery ground, while he repeated the story, as old as the Seekers themselves, soundlessly in his own mind over and over again, feeling hundreds of voices in his Spark doing the same.

The red and white flyer angled his wings to better feel the thin atmosphere of Cybertron flitting over his planes, high above the ruins of Vos.  
The almost non-existent wind of his vast home-planet tugged at his slender form and the weak air currents, courtesy of the entire society of Seekers in the universe dancing and playing around him, washed over his sensors.

Cybertron no longer had a sun, and the Seekers' once-proud capital had been reduced to rubble in the millennia long war.  
But the almost shy light of the stars was enough to reflect off themetallic bodies and to let the vibrant colors off flying shapes flicker in this almost endless, silent dance. Gleaming in a transcendental light, every single mech and femme revived their shared memories of tall, regal towers, delicate balconies and ornate arcs.  
At least, for this one orn.

Vos had fallen, but Primus' blessed children still were free and could dream….

Starscream smiled to himself, drifting right to avoid a collision with a Seeker he had never seen before.  
All the same, he knew the story of his whole life up to this particular orn, his wishes, his hopes, his friends in the Autobot army, his nightmares, his enemies and how he would soar high in the air- just- like -_now_!

_

* * *

_

Before the beginning of time, there was Nothing….

* * *

The story began anew and Starscream felt all the hundreds of voices in his Spark whisper again the sacred words no other Cybertronian would ever understand.

Most of them would even accuse the Seekers of heresy, "spreading such lies" and believing "such nonsense", but how could Starscream, how could every Seeker not believe, if they could _feel _it?  
Feeling every other Seeker in their Spark, even more so now, while praising Primus for the unique gifts he had blessed them with?

They would never understand, and would try to explain the secret bond between all Seekers with scientific means, would compare it with known bonds that were so similar, and yet so different.

It was no siblingbond, because not all Seekers were related, nor was a mere brotherbond able to create such unity.  
And twinbonds were much more binding, resulting in a shared death of the siblings, whereas Seekers lived on when one of them died.

It was no Sparkbond, it was too unconscious for that.  
It could only achieve its full strength if many Seekers were together or if one of them was in true need of the comfort and encouragement of inner strength found far from home.

It was certainly no Gestaltbond, not even when all Seekers met to celebrate Primus and his goodness.  
Even if this bond between Seekers could be manipulated to function between a certain number of mechs or femmes to a degree that assured a flawless performance as a flight unit, there was no overmind and would never be.

They were all one for this wonderful orn, a unity that could not be broken, but they were themselves at the same time, individuals so fiercely different that it surprised other Cybertronians again and again.

They would never understand… and Starscream wouldn't want it any other way, and he felt every Seeker flying with him in the velvety skies above Vos agree.

They were the Seekers, Primus' truly blessed children.  
Always free, even if caged, dreaming and making their dreams come true, always dancing on the edge between brilliance and insanity, greatness and devastation, between the extremes that ruled their personalities and lives.

They would never understand, and that was how it should be.

Starscream twisted and dove low in another arc that would lead him over the entire expanse of their former city.  
The other Seekers followed his lead one by one, screaming, crying, laughing, singing, whooping, praying, everything and nothing in this wonderful chaos they called their dance, caught between thrill, joy and gratitude for the ability to be what they were.

Starscream saw them all, felt them all, forming perfect patterns that no ground-bound mech would truly ever understand, if see, not once straying from their flight-paths or colliding in mid-air.

He saw Skywarp and Thundercracker side by side a little to his right, not even the wild abandon of the celebration could bring them to forget their duties as wingmates. There were Ramjet, Thrust and Dirge chasing each other in circles, while Misfire looked on, his trinemates Triggerhappy and Slugslinger trying to coax him into a game as well.

Starscream saw and felt Slipstream, Redmoon and Starshooter, Silverlining, Darkrush and Cloudwhisper, Overkill, Backlash and Crossfire, Sunsmile, Mistdancer and Crosswinds, the Rainmakers Rainblade, Wingdagger and Skyscythe, and their brother trine Stormchaser, Nighttalon and Cometcatcher, the Conehead trine Soar, Twister and Spite and the last Seeker Younglings ever sparked, even if they were of age by now, Frostkiss, Winterwind and Icewing.

He could see them and so many, many more, mostly Decepticons, some Neutrals and just a few with the red brand of the Autobots.  
But, that counted for nothing in this particular moment, because they were one and knew that they forever would be, regardless of distance or factions.

Starscream laughed in rare, Spark-felt happiness, tilted his nosecone upwards and fired his thrusters.

The others followed quickly, painting colorful streaks in the black, starry sky, but no other could match his speed, even if they would have wanted to.

He began to spin and he watched all the Seekers around him turn into blurred colors and pale glitters, becoming one. In the distance he could see Megatron's silvery shape standing at the former borders of Vos, Soundwave like a shadow at his side, while at the opposite edge of the ruins Optimus Prime and his chess pieces, Bishop Prowl and Knight Jazz, watched the shimmering dance of Starscream's kind.

The red and white mech couldn't help but smirk at their audience below.

Prime should be thankful.  
His Autobots always accused the Seekers of being Energon thirsty and violent, but these same flyers granted Cybertron a whole orn of peace each vorn.  
Every mech alive knew, that, if the celebration to Primus' honor was disturbed, there would be dire consequences for the responsible faction.

If the Autobots tried to bomb the Seekers into extinction while they were easy targets, any survivors would unite under Decepticon rule and avenge every death a thousand fold. Even if Prime didn't have many Seekers in his army, he would not risk loosing any of them, or go against his peaceful ideals.

And if Megatron tried to break the ceasefire, all Seekers would leave Cybertron and find themselves a new home until the war was over, once and for all.

So both leaders could only watch and marvel at the Seekers' dance.

And seethe in white-hot rage, in Megatron's case.

Starscream cut his engines and let himself fall, certain that all flyers beneath him would dodge this sudden move without needing to think about it, their Sparks telling them what every other Seeker was doing at this very moment.

Megatron was such a fool.

He probably still wondered how Starscream, who he thought of as a useless dolt and dazzler, had come to be the co-ruler of Vos, once, and Commander of all Seekers, and why no other Seeker had ever tried to overthrow him or even challenge him.

This idiotic buckethead had not even realized that Starscream was perhaps the only reason that the majority of Seekers fought and won battles for the gunformer.

Seekers were free to do whatever they wanted, but still most of them unconsciously vowed to follow the strongest Spark and spirit of them all – and that was Starscream and would be until his death. Every other strong willed Seeker was part of the Autobot army, so the Decepticon Supreme Commander should be glad that he never had killed his SIC.

The Seekers had never followed Megatron, and sometime in the near future, Starscream would show this particular fact to the old rustbolt and gain leadership over all other Decepticons as well.

The red and white mech came out of his nosedive, somersaulted thrice in quick succession and soared again, his own joy answered by hundreds of voices jubilating.

After all, he was a Seeker, and what was a Seeker better at, than dancing at the edge of danger?

_

* * *

_

AN: Questions to me.


	14. Caring

_Disclaimer: I own nothing – at least nothing Transformers related. _

_AN: Wow, I never had a chapter that was so hard to write. _

_I'd already almost finished another version of this, from another POV, but when I read it again, I noticed that it was boring and lengthy.  
What I really wanted to show had become much too short, more a footnote than real content._

_So I wrote it again and this is it._

_This version is much better – at least I think so._

__

_Thanks to mdnytryder for correcting this chapter. Happy Halloween!_

**

* * *

**

13/28 Caring (AU G1)

It was a wonderful evening.

The wind howled through the canyons, it rained like there would be no tomorrow and wet leaves made the ground dangerous to even a Cybertronian.  
The sky was dark and full of clouds, occasionally showing the pale, full moon.

The storm had the whole area around the Arc in its unyielding grip and it was simply perfect.

The perfect atmosphere for Halloween.

* * *

Inside, the rec room of the Arc was dimly lit by some strategically placed candles and a small cracking fire.  
Red Alert had thrown a fit about said fire, while Inferno had stood beside him and grinned like a maniac.

False cobwebs, rubber bats and hollow pumpkins dangled from the ceiling and the room that had been cleared of all chairs and tables and garnished with large pillows and cushions that had everybody speculating where Sideswipe had gotten them.

All off duty Autobots sat around the fire, laughing and telling ghost stories, each one painted or dressed up as some sort of monster, fictional character or other Earth creature.

Bumblebee had decorated himself with more black stripes and false wings and looked simply ridiculous as a giant bumblebee.

Sideswipe had managed to glue masses of fur to his metallic skin and proudly wore a fake set of sharp teeth, ears and a furry tail.  
His grin hadn't gotten any more trustworthy under the costume, and each Autobot gave him a wide berth. He was enjoying himself far too much for anyone's liking.

Jazz had painted himself a pale grey with pink traces of energon here and there, claiming that he was some sort of Cybertronian zombie.  
His chance to win the award of being the creepiest mech of the Arc was destroyed by his slag-eating grin that just didn't seem to waver.

The reason for his cheery mood could be the fact that he had accomplished not only talking Prime, but Prowl as well, into wearing costumes.

The SIC wore a black cape and fake teeth, his calm and cold nature doing the rest in letting him impersonate a vampire.  
Prime had reluctantly agreed, (some whispered he had lost a bet), to let himself be painted silver with a large black pseudo cannon attached to his right arm.  
He suffered good-naturedly along at every joke at his expense.

Dressed in a star-spotted blue cape, a high, pointed hat, large glasses that kept slipping from his noseplates, and sporting a scar in the form of a lightning bolt on his forehead, Bluestreak had no clue who or what he was supposed to be.  
But, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker had said that he looked great, so he smiled and accepted the costume.  
They, along with Jazz and Bumblebee, kept snickering each time they looked at him, and by now it had started to annoy him.  
Honestly, what was so funny?  
And why did they continue to harass him to finally finish off He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named (the Megatron-turned Prime)?

He just didn't get it!

Ratchet came as himself.  
It was suggested by the twins, as they could think of anything scarier than their CMO.

He had just finished an old Cybertronian story about an unnamed monster living in outer space that ate planets.  
Supposedly, this monster was a dark brother of Primus himself and tried to kill him and every living being.

After Ratchet had accepted everyone's praise for a story well told, Bluestreak asked the one question that would lead to events that no Cybertronian present would ever forget.

"Have you… uh, have one of you ever seen a ghost? A real one? I mean, I know that there are no such things as ghosts and that most incidents related to ghosts are only human imagination gone wild…. Not that I have a thing against human imagination, it's great, better than ours, for sure, but… have you ever seen one?"

It was a sign how important the question was for Bluestreak that he never strayed far from the topic and finished after only a couple of sentences, his optics large, embarrassed, frightened, expectant, anxious and hopeful all at once.

Only Blue could give you such a look without having you laugh at him.

The other mechs considered his question, some shrugging uncertainly, others shaking their heads.

After awhile, Sunstreaker, out of all Autobots, answered the Datsun, a scowl on his face and his optics turned to the ground in uneasiness.

"I've heard one. At least I think I have…."

Sideswipe turned to his brother in surprise. Even he didn't know about this.  
The bond with his twin told him that Sunstreaker was, of all things, _ashamed_ to admit this and truly wanted to hide right now, and get away from all the attention he normally so enjoyed.

The red mech scooted closer to his twin until he could feel the soft hum of the engine under the golden metal.

Sunstreaker didn't say anything, but Sideswipe could feel gratitude flowing through the bond.

"It was… it was when I wanted to join the Decepticons."

A collective gasp was heard, followed by an, "I told you so!" from one of the Minibots at the other side of the room.

Prime lifted a hand before anyone could say a thing, willing the others to be quiet and let Sunstreaker speak.

The yellow twin continued, rubbing unconsciously at a scratch on his otherwise pristine paintjob – not even Sideswipe could convince his twin to hide his perfect appearance behind a mask or anything so ridiculous.

"I had fought in the underground matches in Kaon for some time and when the uprising of the Decepticons became inevitable, I thought that I would fit there best. I'm not really a kind mech and I love to fight. We were kindred spirits, them and I."

"But you didn't join!" insisted Sideswipe and glared at Cliffjumper who was muttering insults under his breath and seemed about to attack Sunstreaker.  
Nobody seemed to know what he was, he looked like some sort of poisonous red and white mushroom.

"I almost did – but suddenly I heard… a voice or something, directly in my CPU. I tried to ignore it, to will it to go away, but it stayed and told me things about the other gladiators I didn't know and never wanted to know. It spoke of a coming war and what would happen to Cybertron and its people. I didn't listen and insisted that I didn't care, that it wouldn't matter what happened to all those not willing to join Megatron or to fight against their own kind…. But then it began to speak about Sideswipe and asked me if I was willing to sacrifice my own brother for a mad mech with delusions of grandeur and the destiny of becoming a mass murderer."

Sunstreaker cycled air through his vents like a human sigh, "I couldn't do it. I didn't join and stayed away from them. Later I could see that the voice had been right. About everything."

The other mechs were silent.

After some awkward minutes Tracks broke the stillness, laughing uneasily, "And that's your ghost? Sounds to me as if you simply had a chat with your conscience. Congratulations, Sunstreaker, you have a conscience."

The golden warrior glared at the Firebird and snarled, "I know my conscience, its name is Sideswipe, and this voice didn't belong to him! In fact, I'd never heard it before and never again after that episode!"

Sideswipe had the good grace to look touched at the exclamation of his twin.

Before Tracks could answer, a disembodied voice floated out of a corner – Mirage, playing ghost, "I believe Sunstreaker's story. I've heard a voice, too. I don't know if it was the same one, but when the other Alphas made their deal with the Decepticons, something began to whisper in my mind and told me about the things all of my peers didn't want to acknowledge. The voice convinced me that what happened was wrong and to stand up against it."

Smokescreen spoke up next.

He had never heard a voice himself, but he knew that after too much Energon, Sandstorm would sometimes tell a story about how he had decided against swearing allegiance to Megatron.  
The triplechanger also spoke of the voice with a hint of fear in his tone.  
Apparently, his ghost had become rather "forceful" after a time with no adjustment in Sandstorm's attitude, smashed his whole apartment in the progress and scared off all his costumers.

Encouraged by the others, more and more Autobots began to tell stories about a voice whispering in their CPU's, sometimes warning them of incoming missiles on the battlefield, other times suggesting the best routes of attack or shouting a loud and commanding "Duck!" or "Hide!" when they were about to be discovered or overrun by Decepticons.

Even Ratchet grumpily admitted, that sometimes grave and complicated injuries deep inside of a mech's structure mended themselves right before his optics, the broken parts being lifted and rearranged by invisible hands until the self repair systems of the wounded could reconnect everything to the right places.

"Actually, why did you ask, Bluestreak?" queried Jazz after the CMO's descriptions of moving cables and circuits.  
Even the naturally cheery mech couldn't help but get the creeps after so many stories hinting at the existence of a real ghost, a Cybertronian ghost.

The voice seemed to mean well most of the times – but it was just unnatural.

The little Datsun twitched his doorwings nervously and began to pick at his cape.

"I saw one," he admitted quietly, going against his very nature with the short statement.

He found one thread at the hem and pulled until the fabric began to unravel.

"You saw one, really?"

The other mechs shifted in their seats, not knowing if they wanted to hear the story.  
The Halloween that had began so simply, suddenly became so solemn in a short period of time….

"When I was trapped under debris in Polyhex. After I was rescued by you I first thought I had seen Prowl, but later I heard the ghost's voice again and then I wasn't sure anymore and…," he took a deep breath to calmed himself.

"I was trapped. There were flames all around me and… and bodies from the bombs and lasers. I could not move and it became hotter and hotter. I thought I was hallucinating because of the shock or Energon loss, or smoke, the smoke was so thick, I could abrely see anything, or…," he interrupted himself again.

"Anyway, I first thought that he wasn't real, but there was somebody speaking to me, reassuring me that help would be on the way, that I would survive and everything would be, not alright, but at least get better…. I could not answer, my vocalizer was damaged, but somehow he seemed to know what I was thinking and he told me that I was the only one left, the only one out of the entire population of Polyhex…."

Bluestreak began to sob, trapped between the wish to hide his painful and frightening memories away and the need to tell somebody what he had experienced.

"After… after some minutes the smoke cleared a bit, but the heat had damaged my optics and I could only see colored blurs. He, it was a mech, I think, he was white and black and red, so I later thought it was Prowl because he is also…. Anyway, he stayed the whole time even when everything threatened to collapse and the heat became unbearable, encouraging me, comforting me, telling me that I would not die there and that I would find great friends, people who cared about me and that I would have a wonderful future if I only fought on and didn't give in…."

Bluestreak couldn't continue speaking, so heavy were the sobs and so terrible the pain in his Spark.  
He leaned into the embrace the twins offered and cried.

When his tears finally ceased to flow he whispered quietly, "He apologized to me."

He tried to wipe his tears away and failed, there were still bright streaks visible on his cheeks.

"I don't know why he apologized, he had no reason, without him, I would have given up and simply died. And Prowl and the others would have never found me, I couldn't scream, he was the one who shouted for help, and…. I don't know, I would really like to thank him and to know who he is and why he does so much for us and…. I don't know."

"It's okay, Blue. We understand what you mean," said Jazz softly.

The saboteur leaned back and looked around.

"You know, I'd also like to know who this ghost is. He seems like a nice enough guy, so it would be good to know him better and thank him."

He smiled slightly.

The smile froze on his faceplates when a voice without an owner whispered quietly but audibly for everyone to hear, "No, you wouldn't."

* * *

Starscream's ghost watched the Autobots frantically look around, searching for an explanation for the otherworldly voice.  
Perhaps it was one of Sideswipe's bad jokes, a notion, that was discarded once everyone saw the look of fear on Sideswipe's faceplates.  
Some of the mechs were puzzling over the meaning of the statement.

But, every single Autobot present was wishing that they had never heard of Halloween and ghost stories.

When you were a ghost, no longer bound by the rules of time and space, unable to influence your own life or stop yourself or your former comrades from pursuing a path that would lead all of you into darkness, despair and death, you had enough time to think about the past and your failures and mistakes.

And to wish you had done better….


	15. Exploring

_Disclaimer: I own nothing – at least nothing Transformers related. _

_AN: Exploring is more than just experiments and new discoveries in science. Sometimes, it's about simple understanding as well._

_Thanks to mdnytryder for correcting this chapter._

**

* * *

**

14/28 Exploring (G1)

If there was one thing Starscream loved about Earth, it was its sky.

This wonderful clear blue infinity, spotted with white clouds, fluffy and innocent looking, was something every Seeker dreamed of since Cybertron had drifted away from its sun and lost its atmosphere to the cold void of space.

Certainly, the star-filled darkness of the Cybertron skies was beautiful too, but it just didn't have the particular feeling to it that gave every flyer the feeling that they were on top of the world, the only ones allowed so incredibly near to perfection.

Starscream simply loved Earth's sky, and he used every available moment to bask in its calming aspect and to let the cool wind on his wings soothe all his worries and rage away until he finally could think clearly again.

Only here in the air, at the point where the light blue faded slowly into pale purple and rich, dark blue, kilometers away from any other living being, could he find the peace of mind to face his failures. Only here could he relive painful memories and reach conclusions he would never thought of on the ground, under the pressure of a dozen glares locked on him, just waiting for an opportunity to catch him in a moment of weakness and use his secrets against him.

Only here, he was able to accept the things that haunted and hurt him the most.

Like Skyfire.

He had seen him today, playing glorified taxi for a bunch of injured Autobots.

Starscream had seen the look the white shuttle had sent his way, disappointed, disapproving and... detached?

The Seeker had anticipated the first two emotions, even though he still thought that Skyfire was the one at fault.

_He, _Starscream, should be disappointed at his _friend, _who had simply left him for some mechs he didn't even know just because he didn't agree with Starscream's choice of a faction.

The shuttle hadn't even seriously tried to argue with his friend about the choice he made, hadn't even heard the reasons for his deeds or his way of life.  
He just shook his head in that typical, ever-annoying, exasperated manner of his, which always left Starscream feeling either totally dense or nothing more than a Sparkling in Skyfire's optics.

If the Decepticon was completely honest with himself, this lack of arguing and persuasion had hurt more than anything else.  
He could have handled it if Skyfire left him because of his beliefs and ideals… but not that he did so without making any effort to understand and win back his one-time partner and friend at all.

That was just wrong!

So why?

Why had he done that and why had he looked so detached, like at the Academy when one of his experiments hadn't gone as planned….

The sudden understanding hit Starscream like a shot out of Megatron's fusion cannon, only with a wider, more devastating force.  
The shock was so great, that he almost cut his engines and dropped right out of the sky.

An experiment!

All this time, on Cybertron, while exploring other worlds, here on Earth – he had just been one of Skyfire's experiments.

He could practically hear Skyfire's voice, calm, collected and almost emotionless as he recorded the progress and results of all his experiments:

"Although subject Seeker Starscream showed great potential of deviating from the usual behavior of military build mechs, he returned to the violent and undesirable ways of his kind when no longer under the influence and supervision of my own person.

"Apparently, military built mechs are incapable of showing beneficial traits to the Cybertronian society when not constantly encouraged and urged to do so.

"My personal suggestion would be the complete destruction of the terroristic subgroup of the military type mechs called 'Decepticons', and an immediate reprogramming of all others of their build.  
If it is not possible to counter the negative effects of their encoding and to entrust them with simple, non-violent tasks, it would be advisable to extinguish their Sparks in a gentle way and to use their parts as a base for future generations of peaceful Cybertronians."

Starscream didn't know if he should laugh hysterically at the hypocrisy of it all, or cry because of the way he had been deceived all these vorns and his _friend_ is finally lost forever.

He opted for a third possibility, and screamed his anguish at the uncaring sky.

_

* * *

_

Halftime!

_I still need a story for either "Horny" or "Turned On". If you have an idea, tell me._

_Another point: Should I do "On Vacation" or "Dominant" next? At the moment, they are even._


	16. On Vacation

_Disclaimer: I own nothing – at least nothing Transformers related. _

_AN: Nothing special, but hey…. _

_Thanks to mdnytryder for correcting this chapter._

**

* * *

**

15/28 On Vacation (G1)

"I'M YOUR SECOND IN COMMAND! WITHOUT ME, THIS ARMY WOULDN'T STAND A CHANCE!"

It was a fairly normal day at Decepticon Headquarters.

The Nemesis still rested at the bottom of the ocean, the giant squid still scared the living slag out of the occupants of the bridge now and then, the fish still hadn't tired of watching their strange but amusing metallic guests through the numerous windows in the hull of the spaceship turned underwater base… and Starscream still shrieked his vocalizer out in an attempt to finally gain his much deserved respect from his Supreme Commander.

Every Decepticon soundlessly mouthed the words of the never changing rant along with the Air Commander, some even acting out his exaggerated, dramatic movements to the amusement of their audience.

Four seconds, three, two, one….

Enter, Megatron.

"IF NOT FOR YOU, YOU LITTLE, SLAGGING FOOL, MY ARMY WOULD HAVE CONQUERED CYBERTRON A LONG TIME AGO!  
SLAG IT, I WOULD HAVE EVEN CONQUERED THE UNIVERSE BY NOW! BUT YOU SIMPLY CAN'T RESIST TRYING TO OVERTHROW ME AT EVERY FRAGGING CHANCE!

"TELL ME, STARSCREAM, WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF YOU FINALLY SUCCEEDED IN GETTING RID OF ME?

"WOULD YOU GO RUNNING TO PRIME, CRYING THAT NOBODY LISTENS TO YOU AND WHAT YOU CONSIDER ORDERS?  
WOULD YOU WHINE ABOUT HOW YOU HAVE NO CLUE WHAT TO DO, BECAUSE YOU COULDN'T EVEN LEAD A BUNCH OF RETRORATS TO AN ENERGON LAKE OR ANT-DROIDS TO A PICNIC?"

Quiet sniggers of the unwilling, if amused audience.

Thirty seconds for Starscream to gape at the insult, to cycle air and then launch the great finale.

Two, one….

"YOU NEED ME! YOU WOULDN'T LAST THREE DAYS WITHOUT ME!"

Ah, only Starscream's voice had this aghast, hurt, enraged, indignant, whining and slightly questioning, unsure quality to it.

Countless Decepticons had tried and failed to imitate this particular tune throughout the war and still it never ceased to be the topic of numerous bets and over-energized games of 'Truth or Dare'.

The Decepticons onboard the Nemesis waited, knowing that somewhere in the giant base a fusion cannon charged with a lovely if frightening whine.

The explosion and a pain-filled shriek proved them right, and were followed by frantic steps through the halls in the direction of the lift.

"I'LL PROVE MY VALUE TO YOU, MEGATRON! JUST WAIT! THREE DAYS, AND YOU WILL BE BEGGING ON YOU KNEES FOR ME TO RETURN!"

Heavier steps, a second explosion, another scream – end of the show.

The Decepticons smirked and went back to their normal activities.

Just another, fairly normal day at Decepticon Headquarters….

* * *

Optimus Prime slowly stepped in front of the brig and wearily eyed its single occupant, a mostly silver-white and red Seeker.

Starscream lay on the berth behind the bars, one arm awkwardly behind his head, the other hand holding a book cube that he studied with a rapt interest.  
Never before had Optimus seen the Air Commander so calm and… peaceful.

Prime hesitated for a moment, then he spoke up, "Megatron has called - again. He now offers us three whole months of cease-fire, one-ninth of his collected Energon cubes and ten safe travels through the Space Bridge and back in exchange for you. We...."

Starscream interrupted him without even looking up from his reading, only lazily waving a light blue hand into the taller mechs direction, "Good, good…. Keep refusing and you will have a peaceful half-year soon…. Anything else?"

Optimus Prime sighed and pinched his optic ridges, "Starscream…. It's been almost three days now and you still refuse to leave _our _brig and go back to _your _faction. What exactly are you doing here?"

The Seeker smirked smugly while thinking of all the ridiculous and disastrous things his underlings had planned that he had caught wind of, right before he had his argument with Megatron.

"Proving a point and rubbing it in as hard and as long as I can manage."


	17. Dominant

_Disclaimer: I own nothing – at least nothing Transformers related. _

_AN: There are never too many ways to interpret a prompt. *eg* _

_Thanks to mdnytryder for correcting this chapter._

**

* * *

**

16/28 Dominant (G1 AU)

If you searched for a peaceful and quiet place in Decepticon Headquarters, you certainly wouldn't find it in Soundwave's quarters.  
As strange as it sounded, the home of the dark blue mech, who was in equal parts famous and infamous for his silence, were one of the loudest and messy rooms of the Nemesis.

It wasn't Soundwave's fault, he even tried to tidy up now and then – but his Creations always managed to undo in five seconds what he had cleaned up only a minute before.

Right now Rumble and Frenzy sat in front of giant plasma screen (after human standards) playing some sort of Ego Shooter while Ravage lay on top of a mound of shabby pillows and watched them out of dim red optics.

Their shouting and insults alongside the explosions from the game echoed in the relatively large room to almost unbearable decibels, but neither their Creator nor their siblings really cared, having long grown accustomed to just deactivating audios while in their presence.

Ratbat hung from crack in the wall, sleeping soundly and swinging softly back and forth with every colorful explosion on the screen and even more colorful insults out of a little mech's mouth.

Laserbeak busied herself with some videos she had taken on her last spy mission for Megatron, reviewing them internally again and again.  
If the slight shaking of her shoulders were any indication, the footage was highly amusing and would most likely be shared with her family unit before the night was over.

Buzzsaw observed his twin for a few minutes, than he flew up to Ratbat's nap-place and begun to pick at the brittle metal around the other Cassetticon's claws.

Soundwave mentally shook his head and sighed soundlessly, knowing that shortly he would have to stop another brawl.  
That would be the fourteenth today.

But he just couldn't bring himself to punish his Creations or to give them more than some basic rules they had to follow without question or exception.  
He loved them far too much and, after all, as a telepath he was more than used to loud sounds, both mental and real, and utter chaos.

Even now he could hear every other Decepticon in the base if he opened his mind just a little bit more, be it the grumbling thoughts of Skywarp at guard duty or Motormaster's unconscious ramblings while he dreamed of the next battle.

He sighed again, not quite understanding why everyone always seemed to feel the urge to be loud and attention getting, regardless of what they were doing at any given moment.  
Even the mental processes of most of his fellow Decepticons weren't much different from their outward annoying behavior – only much more scattered.

Most CPUs of his comrade's CPUs were like puzzles with too many pieces that just didn't fit.

Their thoughts swirled around, appeared out of nowhere and without reason or context and just disappeared the next moment.

If Soundwave truly wanted to read their minds, not only the most constant thoughts or their sudden ideas, he had to mentally slow and order the content of their CPUs himself, if only for a fraction of a second.

It was… troubling and exhausting to be around his comrades sometimes, but he would never admit it out loud.

If the constant "noises" became too much, he simply retreated into the confines of his quarters and basked in the presence of his Creations.  
They were little scatterbrains too, but he knew their minds ever since they onlined their optics the first time, and their thoughts were like a soothing melody for him, background music lulling him into recharge on particularly stressful nights.

The only other two Decepticons whose thought processes didn't wear him out were Megatron and Starscream.  
His Supreme Commander's processor was almost constantly guarded by heavy shields, making his mind the silent eye of the storm that was the Decepticon army.

Starscream, on the other hand, was seldom this shielded.

He didn't really have a need for it, because his mind was in a constant state of motion, only much fleeter than any of his subordinates.  
When Soundwave tried to read Starscream's mind, he only received bright streaks of colors that created strange, indecipherable patterns that could mesmerize Soundwave's own mind for hours as he lay in his quarters and waited for recharge to claim him.

He strongly suspected that Starscream, like Skywarp and Thundercracker, has special abilities.  
The SIC wasn't only the fasted flyer alive, he also thought faster than any Cybertronian Soundwave ever encountered before, granting him a brilliance even Shockwave couldn't match, for all his logic and scientific knowledge.

The dark blue mech hesitated for a moment, than he extended a mental tendril and searched for the unique mind of the red and white Seeker to watch the ever changing colors like he had done so often before.

He winced when he finally found it in Megatron's quarters.

The patterns were jagged and erratic, and, for once, Soundwave could actually make out images and short impressions and, over all, strong emotions - mainly rage, annoyance and exasperation.

The other CPU Soundwave could feel in the faraway room was even more open.

Megatron had forgotten to raise his shields and firewalls completely and was broadcasting his emotions and thoughts freely throughout the entire base.

The communications expert sighed.

They had had another argument.

A true one this time.

Nobody, aside from Soundwave and his Creations, knew that Megatron and Starscream actually were a bounded couple, and a happy one at that.

They had been together for millennia, having bonded almost right after Starscream had become Second in Command, and had kept their relationship a secret ever since.

The only reason that Soundwave knew about it was because when Megatron made his first proposal, Starscream had, quite frankly, rebuffed him mercilessly and thoroughly.  
The Seeker had left his lover immediately and retreated to the other side of Cybertron to stay there for two vorns, without a word or message for the taller gunformer.

Megatron's self-confidence had been crushed, and his Spark - something most Autobots thought non-existant - had shattered almost beyond repair.

Most Decepticons had noticed the change in their Supreme Commander when for two long vorns the war seemed to come to a complete standstill.  
No explanation came from the higher-ups aside from the unofficial whisper now and then that Megatron had either lost it or was developing a brilliant new plan.

Soundwave had known better.

Megatron had been so depressed after being turned down by the mech he loved more than anything that his guard had been completely down.

His Third in Command had no trouble entering the gunformer's mind to see the events that had led to Megatron's disastrous state.

It was harder for the blue mech to keep out, as he was drawn again and again to the endless misery and confusion, voluntarily or not.

As far as Soundwave knew, the night that ended Megatron's world had begun rather well.

Both Decepticons had met in the taller mechs quarters, talked a bit, drunk some high-grade and then found themselves on the berth making out and more.

It had gone downhill from there.

In the heights of passion Megatron had asked Starscream to bond with him, apparently ending his proposal with the words "My most beautiful conquest."

Starscream couldn't have cooled down faster from the heights of passion if you had dumped a bucket of acid on his head.

The Seeker became rigid, and when Megatron asked what was wrong, the smaller mech answered in the most frigid tone Soundwave ever had heard in his whole life.  
This tone would have had even Optimus Prime running for cover....

* * *

"_Conquest? You see me… as your _conquest_, Lord Megatron?"_

_Starscream looked up at the silver Cybertronian, his optics showing no emotion._

"_Why do you call me 'Lord' all of sudden, Starscream? There is no need for such formalities between us, you know that."_

To his credit, Megatron was still running hot, almost trembling in anticipation of the overload so close and yet so far out of his reach.  
He hadn't really noticed how quickly the mood of his partner had changed from one second to the next, he still waited eagerly for the response to his earlier question, quite certain that the answer would be positive.

_He was about to be gravely disappointed._

"_Don't depart from the topic!" commanded Starscream icily and slowly Megatron realized that something was seriously wrong._

_What had Starscream asked him again?_

_He never managed to remember in time, as the Seeker simply continued on, his tone still as sharp and frosty as an icicle, "Am I correct, when I assume that you simply see me as a… thing? Something pretty to keep around to use when you feel the urge to do so? Something you can own and place in a corner until you need it again?"_

_Any passion and lust Megatron still felt vanished in an instant when the words, the sight of his lover and his _tone _finally registered in his slightly overcharged processor._

_His mind answered to all the new information with a word he had never uttered before, be it aloud or mentally, 'Eep!"_

_Starscream was far from finished._

_When Megatron backed off, he sat up and turned his burning glare on the taller mech, "Is that the reason that you made me Air Commander and Second in Command? To have me always at your beck and call? Because you have decided that I am the most beautiful mech in your army and therefore I am your property? Yours and yours alone?_ Is that all I am to you, Lord Megatron?_"_

Starscream never raised his voice, but somehow, that fact made his speech even more scathing and intense.

"_Starscream, no, I never…."_

_The Seeker stood up and scowled down at the silver mech. "Curb your vocalizer! I don't want to hear it. I already understand, there is no need for lies!"_

_He turned and walked to the door._

"_Recharge well, Lord Megatron!"_

_And with this, he was gone._

_The next day, Megatron learned that his SIC had left Kaon to help some of his Seekers somewhere on the other side of Cybertron._

_The gunformer tried again and again to send Starscream a message, to explain that he didn't see him as a thing, that he loved him… but the Seeker never answered. _

_It was only because of Soundwave that Megatron survived the following two vorns._

While the dark blue telepath stopped any potential assassin or plot to overthrow the Supreme Commander, Megatron tended to his broken Spark, tried to contact Starscream and thought about the mistakes he had made.

_Finally, almost exactly two vorns after the disastrous night, Starscream sent a message that he would return shortly._

_In the attached file, labeled 'Top Secret', could be read, "I don't want to be conquered! I want to be won!"_

_And suddenly, the world began to turn again…._

* * *

Soundwave allowed himself a mental chuckle when he remembered how much Megatron had taken this statement to Spark back then.

Energon treats, fine Cybertronian art, romantic dinners, the best scientific equipment available (Shockwave had fumed when he had learned that Starscream had gotten a new lab), everything the tall, silver mech could think of, Starscream got it.

One vorn later, they were bonded and it turned out that this had been one of the best things that had ever happened to Megatron, Starscream and the Decepticons as a whole.

Both officers had incredible tactical talent and their strengths and weaknesses complimented each other perfectly and flawlessly.  
They were happier, calmer, more devious than ever before and would win the war in no time – if they had wanted to.

For they had found that they didn't want to end the war too quickly.

It was way too much fun to fight against the Autobots, to lure them into traps, to let them win from time to time and to string them along when at the same time they had more than thousand plans in their processors to destroy Optimus Prime's foolish hope of victory and peace once and for all.

If they defeated the Autobots now, what or who could promise them similar exciting and formidable opponents in the future?

When they conquered Cybertron and began to spread their army through space, how could they be sure they would meet equal challenges?

It was better to use Optimus Prime and his troops to their full extent to train the Decepticon warriors and to ease their boredom.

The only fact that bothered Starscream and Megatron was Optimus' lack of cunning.

He always played fair and by the rules and he never tried to assassinate them or to do something dishonorable to sway the war in his favor.

And so, "The Game" finally was invented and implemented.

Personally, Soundwave could have done without it, but who was he to decide.  
His superiors had found that they wanted to add some spice to the war, and the telepath had to comply.

"The Game" itself was equally secret, like Megatron's and Starscream's relationship, and the source of almost every disturbance in the Decepticon army.

The rules were fairly simple: No killing, no heavy injuries, and there had always had to be a way out.

Aside from these three restrictions, everything was fair game, something Starscream took full advantage of.

He started as a slightly grouchy and disloyal Second in Command always questioning his Supreme Commander, and developed into a mad maniac with delusions of grandeur with the wonderful idea to let Earth collide with its sun.

The Seeker loved his role in the game and wasted no time undermining Megatron's plans and questioning his orders.

He used his natural creativity to stage incredible attempts to overthrow his Bondmate, one more ridiculous than the other.

On the other hand, Megatron kept his own wits and mind sharp trying to guess Starscream's next plot ahead of time and foil it in the beginning stages.

Points were given for uniqueness, subtlety, quality of surprise, length of time in which Megatron was "overthrown", length of the typical "Megatron has died. I'm Supreme Commander of the Decepticons now!"speech before Megatron returned, quality of the traded insults, length of time it took for Megatron to see through the next scheme, dramatic quality of Megatron's reappearance and some other similarly ridiculous categories with occasional bonus points thrown in.

Soundwave, having the thankless duty of counting these points and to overseeing any new rounds, painfully and precesily recalled how close Starscream's last attempt with Earth's sun had come to destroying the Decepticon elite, once and for all.

He, Starscream and Megatron did have had the codes for the Spacebridge and even a secret code to stop Bruticus in time, nonetheless it had been a very close call….

Fortunately, for once, Megatron and Starscream agreed with his sentiment and had decided to tone their "Game" down a few notches from now on.

After all, it would be far from beneficial to the cause if they killed their troops in an act of boredom….

Soundwave smirked behind his facemask at the thought.

It was actually a very likely possibility.  
At least more probable than the Autobots ever winning the war.

Even if Prime's mechs suddenly became better warriors or his mad inventor would invent a deadly weapon, they would never stand a chance.

Before Starscream had awoken the Autobots from their hibernation (Another part of "The Game". Earth was unexciting without capable enemies to defend the Squishies.), he had installed some hidden files into Teletraan, serving as a way to activate three completely different set of bombs hidden within the Arc at a later date by the Cassetticons. They could be triggered with a simple radio signal and... BOOM!

So it was only a matter of mere seconds to get rid of Prime, Jazz, Prowl and the rest once and for all.

Soundwave uncurled another tendril of his mind and touched the CPU's in Megatron's quarters.

Their argument had been finished by now and his Supreme Commanders hazy, rapidly clouding thoughts showed him that it had been about the usual topics: should Starscream partake in the next particular dangerous mission and if the SIC's behavior to the troops as a part of "The Game" wasn't a little bit too arrogant and instigating.

(The normal, shrieked answer to these queries included several derogatory remarks about how Megatron should paint himself blue and red and go hug a Squishy. Starscream was a warrior and no Autobot Sparkling, thank you very much.)

The telepath smiled to himself and relaxed, only to become aware of six pairs of optics that watched him with anticipation.

He onlined his audio receptors and turned to the twins.

"And?" Asked Rumble with an eager expression on his faceplates.

Soundwave did nothing and simply waited until his Creations clarified their intentions.

Some seconds passed, then, "_And_! As in 'Who won?'. As in 'Who won the fragging argument his time, Screamer or Megs?'."

Soundwave reviewed the tidbits of information found in Megatron's preoccupied mind and answered, "Starscream: Superior."

Five of six Cassetticons began to cheer, while Rumble slouched into a little heap of sulking youngling.

"I really thought Megatron would stand up to him this time," he declared disappointedly.

Frenzy laughed, "Yeah! Sure! Like the poor slagger ever would. You know how much of a sucker he is for Screamer."

"Lord Megatron can defeat Prime anytime, but let him face his angry mate and he clamps his tailpipes between his legs and begins to grovel," purred Ravage from his cozy spot.

"Megatron," began Frenzy in an exaggerated shrill voice. "Let's make peace with Optimus Prime. I'm tired of all this fighting."  
The little mech put a hand to his forehead and gave his best expression of a dramatic diva.

His siblings roared with laughter and Rumble, distracted from his loss of the bet, jumped at the chance to play his Supreme Commander, "My dear, is it really necessary…?"

Frenzy turned to his brother and gave him his best imitation of "The Look", a patented glare that Starscream reserved only for Megatron on mostly private occasions.

Rumble reacted accordingly and cowered, "Yes, Starscream. Whatever you want, Starscream."

Ratbat fell from his perch and wheezed on the ground, next to Buzzsaw who almost offlined from laughter.

"Really, Rumble, you should have known better than to place your bet for Ol' Megs. I mean, you know him. If his beloved Bondmate would want the universe as a present for their anniversary, he would get it, as soon as Megatron found a bow large enough to wrap it in."

Soundwave shook his head at his joking Creations – but he could not fight this particular image in his head….

"_A red bow? Do I look like an Autobot to you? I want my universe with a purple bow!"_

"_Yes, Starscream. Whatever you want, Starscream…. I love you."_

_

* * *

_

!!! Important !!!

_From Monday on I will study again so I will have less time for writing. So please excuse me, if my update patterns will become even more erratic._

_Also I have renewed the poll.  
Please vote._


	18. Special 2: No Sacrifice, No Victory

_Disclaimer: I own nothing – at least nothing Transformers related. _

_AN: Have I ever told anybody how much I hate this motto?_

_"No Sacrifice, No Victory", yeah, right!_

_Any good leader should be willing to do all to save his men and not accept that he might have to sacrifice some of them only to "Try it again at a later date" or "Perhaps we'll have better luck next time."  
I agree that someone who fights to defend himself and those whom he loves has to be willing to die for his goal if needed – but that doesn't change the fact that this motto is serious BS.  
It really calls for a sacrifice or there will be no victory at all and… when is the sacrifice too great to really call it something akin to a victory in the end?_

_I could rant for hours, perhaps even without managing to explain my point to you, so I will simply be silent now and let you read._

_Thanks to mdnytryder for correcting this chapter and amusing me with the image of fairy Prime tripping trhough the corridor. I didn't know it came across like that. ^^"  
Some references to the "28 Dead Ends" story "Angsty" from Dragoness Eclectic._

**_

* * *

_**

Special 2: No Sacrifice, No Victory (AU G1)

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Bright, artificial light and dark, all-swallowing shadows created a sharp crisscrossing pattern on the floor of the long corridor leading to the Council chambers, the heart of the newly rebuilt Iacon.

With each of his long, steady steps, Optimus Prime wove in and out of the light and shadow, letting his blue and red paint gleam brightly like summer skies and sunsets or glow darkly like the eternal night of Cybertron and spilt human blood.

Light and shadows – how fitting it was.

Oh, what he would give to have such clear lines restored in his confused, aching CPU….

When something ends that you spent your whole life doing, that you put your whole strength into, your whole Spark, every little hope… you can't believe it at first.

You are shocked, confused, perhaps even a bit disappointed and angry that suddenly everything is over, and you feel guilty about these last sentiments, because you should be happy and glad and cheering….

You. Have. Won!

You have succeeded, you came out on top, you have survived, you can finally move on and become happy….

Can't you?

_

* * *

_

_Optimus Prime stared at his downed archenemy, his antagonist, a mech he knew almost as intimately as himself._

_Megatron was _dying_._

_And Optimus had prevailed._

_He just couldn't believe it._

_"Aren't you going to celebrate, Prime? Oh… no, I forgot. That isn't your style…. You will lecture me, pray to Primus to accept my dark, tainted Spark, but you won't ever admit that you're happy that I'm finally dead, once and for all, that you have won…. Am I not right?"  
Megatron smirked, his optics dim and exhausted, Energon streaming over his face and obscuring the harsh features._

_Why did Megatron, the dying mech, seem to accept the outcome of their millennia long battle so much easier? Why was he so calm about his fate? So peaceful?_

_Why did he behave so much more like the ultimate winner than Optimus himself?_

_The Prime just couldn't turn his optics from his enemy, not even to look around to see which of his brave mechs had survived the horrible fight, and who had perished to herald Megatron's arrival at the Matrix._

_He felt like nothing, pathetic and lost, confused and frightened to his very core, like Orion Pax standing in front of his hero, just when the great silver mech had revealed his true colors to him._

_And he just couldn't understand it._

_"So silent, Prime?"_

Even mortally wounded and in incredible agony, Megatron still found the strength to taunt his enemy. He smirked, superior in every way, as he ever would be.  
And he knew it….

_"You have never before killed such an high-ranking opponent, have you? I'm not even sure if you ever have killed _anybody_…. You haven't, haven't you?"_

_The smirk melted into a smile, a strange mix between amusement, disbelief, pity and regret.  
But somehow Prime doubted the regret was for him._

_"It will pass, that I promise you, Prime. Two or three days and you will get over it and move on. Raise a toast to me, Prime. To me and to Cybertron's destiny. It's decided now. May Primus show mercy on his Creations."_

_Optimus nodded, still silent.  
He was still half in a trance from his sudden achievement. _

_The great blue and red mech wasn't even sure how he had delivered the final blow, just that Megatron lay there before him sounding more bitter than he had ever heard him before._

_He could hear how the systems in the giant silver Cybertronian were failing one by one, and finally it registered in his CPU that, _yes_, the war was over!_

_He had _won_!_

_A pale, hesitant smile formed behind his mouth-guard, almost afraid to form._

_Meanwhile, the red optics of his opponent dimmed a little bit more with each passing second.  
But Megatron still noticed the twinkling in his enemy's optics that told him the outcome of their final battle had finally sunk in._

_He smiled again, the exhaustion of a lifetime visible on his face._

_"Do me a favor, Prime."_

His vocalizer struggled through the words, filling them with static, threatening to offline too, now that everything was shutting down.

_Optimus focused on the dying mech's face, willing to honor the last wish of his nemesis._

_A scratched, Energon-coated silver hand reached out to touch his kneeing form, the dreaded fusion cannon lost in the battle. _

_"You were always a worthy opponent, Optimus Prime. I almost pity you for your victory."_

_Blue optics narrowed half angry, half confused._

_"You think you have saved Cybertron by defeating me, and you, in all your naïve glory, don't realize how wrong you are. I have always been the lesser of two evils."_

_Megatron smiled, pain and death changing it into an ugly grimace._

_"Do me a favor, Optimus Prime, and don't blame yourself when you finally realize the consequences of your victory and the true extent of Cybertron's downfall…."_

_The red optics offlined for the final time and silver turned to grey, leaving a confused Prime alone in a changing world…._

_

* * *

_

The months after Megatron's death had been hard.

Not only for Optimus, but for his Autobots as well.

The humans had a saying: "The darkest hour is always before the dawn."

How right they were and Prime really hoped that the sun would now finally rise above Cybertron again.

The Decepticons had tried to hold their ground, both on Earth and Cybertron, struggling fiercely and ending many good mechs' lives, but without their leader they were nothing more than a bunch of rioting misfits in the end, fighting against the inevitable, unable to plan, to think for themselves and to survive on their own – or each other.

The Autobots had managed to capture the Constructicons when they tried to slip unnoticed through the abandoned Spacebridge.  
They were sent to Cybertron by order of the reforming senate, to be reprogrammed and their CPUs cleared of the effects of the Robosmasher.

Nobody had heard from them since.

For some time, Soundwave and the Seekers managed to hold their shrinking group together, keeping them in line with desperate promises and oaths of avenging Megatron's death.

Then the Stunticons went mad.

Flawed from the beginning and with nobody strong enough to control them and their insane tendencies and urges, their condition deteriorated quickly, deeper into the realms of lunacy.

They killed Frenzy when Soundwave tried to subdue the Gestalt with his telepathic powers, than they began to chase everything with wings attached to their bodies, hunting the Seekers, Coneheads and Triplechangers around North America, murdering many humans in the process and leveling at least three small cities in wicked, manic glee.

They managed to shoot down both Thrust and Dirge before the Autobots could finally take the crazy Gestalt out.  
Parts of both Coneheads could be found scattered throughout four states, their heads carried around by the Stunticons like some horrible sort of trophy or Sparkling toy.

Ramjet died shortly after.

Having felt every single torture inflicted on his trine- and bondmates, he went insane and threw himself against buildings, vehicles, mountains and Autobots again and again, until the shocked and appalled mechs had no other choice but to shoot him down and to put an end to his misery.

The Combaticons, worried by the loss of sanity of the other Gestalt and sensing the end of the Decepticons, made a deal with the senate.

They were sent to Cybertron, would stay united and alive while serving only a light sentence if they spilled all secrets and tactical information known to them.  
They sung like canaries only to vanish amidst countless other prisoners of war.

Months later, rumor had it that Swindle had been killed in a riot shortly before their sentence was finished and his brothers simply withered away, staring into space.

The war on Earth continued, with Decepticon rookies and Megatron worshippers staining the soil with their Energon blood every few weeks.

Rumble died, no longer able to bear the loss of his twin.

Laserbeak and Buzzsaw were shot out of the sky during a failed espionage mission.

Soundwave began to keep his remaining two Creations inside him, never letting them out of his chest compartment.  
One day, he was discovered at the entrance of the Arc, willing to spill everything he knew just to keep himself, Ravage and Ratbat alive.

Finally realizing that the war on Earth was ultimately lost, the remaining Decepticons tried to flee to Cybertron to regroup.

Skywarp and Thundercracker stuck together until the very end, one night sneaking through the Spacebridge like the Constructicons tried before.

They succeeded, only to be shot down by Shockwave who held them responsible, along with every other Decepticon on Earth, for Megatron's demise – and who didn't need two other ranking members of the Decepticon elite trying to regain leadership of the scattered, demoralized and infighting troops.

Astrotrain and Blitzwing attempted another route of escape and vanished in space.

No longer needed on Earth, the Autobots followed the few lucky, surviving Decepticons home.

In a perfectly timed attack from two sides, through the Spacebridge and from Cybertron, they managed to catch Shockwave by surprise and defeat him, ending his dreams of grandeur once and for all.

Most Decepticons surrendered after seeing their last commanding officer fall, and the resisting few mechs left were forced underground, degraded to starving, hateful whispering shadows, always in danger of getting caught by the Autobots or killed by a hungry comrade.

Some time later, Astrotrain returned, battered and broken.  
Blitzwing had gone missing after an encounter with a hostile alien race on their way back to their home planet and was never seen again.

Only one single Decepticon was still unaccounted for at the end of the war.

No matter how hard the Autobots searched for him, interrogated their prisoners or set bounties on his head….  
Starscream had disappeared without leaving a trace.

He had been missing for a long time, his absence from all the battles on Earth and Cybertron both troubling and a blessing at the same time.

The Seeker was the only one with the necessary abilities to unite the Decepticons again under his rule and start a successful retaliation, but the flyer had disappeared sometime around the date of Megatron's death und nobody had seen him since.

Some dreaded that he had made his way to Cybertron and was simply lying low, plotting in the depth of the slums, gathering new followers around him with every passing day.

Others thought his grey carcass lay somewhere in Earth's giant ocean, either in the abandoned Nemesis or hidden under the water by one of the other Cons.

Nobody knew for sure, so they could only stay vigilant, waiting and hoping….

* * *

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Light. Shadow. Light. Shadow.

Sharp lines on the floor, the walls and Prime's chassis but none in his processor.

He had a strange feeling, a sense of foreboding since Megatron's death.

The final words of the warlord had touched some cord in his Spark that just wouldn't stop ringing….

And it wasn't a good tune.

Thud. Thud.

Light. Shadow.

Prime looked up from his musings when he reached the grand portals of the council chambers.  
Two white and black shapes already awaited him, Prowl and Jazz, the first mech even more stiffly and uptight than usual, the other mech without his usual cheery grin.

'They could feel it too,' realized Optimus.

They could feel it as he did, this strange sensation that had started with Megatron's death and had intensified with their return to Cybertron.  
Each passing day only strengthened the forebording, made it clearer and evident that there was something they were missing, something that wasn't quite… _right_.

"Shall we go then?" asked Prime with a weak smile and, without waiting for an answer, opened the door to the senate's chambers.

His officers fell in step behind him.

At first they were blinded by a bright golden shine illuminating the great hall in an imitation of sunlight.  
When their optics adjusted, they could make out at least fifty regal-looking mechs, resembling Mirage's or Track's build, looking down at them from their seat rows.

Artistic runes and ornaments adorned each flat surface inside the chambers, outlined with the most precious metals and crystals found on Cybertron.

Prime couldn't help to frown at this obvious display of wealth, while outside these halls Cybertron was still being rebuilt, many mechs without shelter and starving.

But, he had argued with the Council before about these things and the senate had decided that it would serve their people more if they had something to look up to, something to show that a new time of prosperity was about to begin, something to built their hopes upon.

Something like new Council chambers, where the government could meet and decide Cybertron's fate.

Optimus still believed that his people could have done without status symbols in favor of filled tanks and a place to recharge.

A quiet gasp from behind pulled him out of his thoughts.

Instantly his optics focused on what had shocked his Third in Command.

Or better, _who_….

On the other side of the chamber, right beneath the first rows of the Council mechs, stood Starscream, white, red and blue paint gleaming in the golden glow, dark head and ruby eyes swallowing the light like a dark hole.

Prime wanted to pull his rifle out of subspace and could feel that Prowl had already aimed his gun – but the head of the Council stopped their attack in an instant.

"There is no need for violence in these sacred halls, Optimus Prime. Please, don't desecrate this place of hopes and burden your Spark with an innocent's life lost."

"Innocent?" queried Jazz, his visior dim and cold.

Optimus hesitated for a moment, then he nodded and Prowl subspaced his weapon.

"What does this mean?" he asked quietly, his optics never wavering from the silent shape at the other end of the chamber.

The Seeker, infamous for his nervousness, hadn't moved an inch, even when clearly threatened.

One senator cleared his throat, "You had no way of knowing, but Starscream worked under our direct orders since he first became a Decepticon."

"I don't understand…."

"You are aware of the unfortunate mission in which his partner, a mech named Skyfire was lost?  
Starscream was found by one of our security mechs after he crashed for lack of fuel vorns ago.

"After healing his injuries and his disastrous hearing before the Science Council, we took him under our wing, helped him, trained him and made him one of our Black Ops.  
When Megatron's campaign showed signs of success, we sent Starscream to act as our sleeper agent in his troops.  
He was ordered to get as close as possible to Megatron, acquire a command position and become invaluable.

"The plan was to assassinate all officers of the Decepticon movement in one go and to take control before they could get even stronger.

"The first plan failed, but Starscream survived the punishment for his treason and we gave him new orders.  
He was to sabotage any of Megatron's plans and to seed unrest in the lower ranks. He stood true to his orders even when the senate was forced into hiding and Autobot and Decepticon elite alike were lost on Earth.

"He has helped you many times in the past, Optimus Prime, he doesn't deserve your hostility but your utmost respect.  
He is a loyal soldier of the senate and Cybertron, unlike any other."

Jazz gaped openly and Prowl furrowed his brow ridges, but Optimus showed no sign of emotion, thanks to his battle mask.

Internally, his processor was reeling and this strange sensation of wrongness was getting stronger and stronger.

Something wasn't right!

He _believed_ the Council when they said that Starscream was on their side, and that he had helped them the entire time, it would explain a lot – but something about the Seeker himself wasn't right.

He could see him from where he stood, a sleek, elegant shape, never-moving, his face expressionless and without the familiar smirk, the screeching voice not taunting or gloating, his optics never wandering or wavering….

His optics!

They were dull, devoid of any feeling, without all the things that had once made Starscream the Seeker they had known and hated.

The senator continued on, "… and so we have decided, that you and your Autobots need rest. You have done enough in the past hundred vorns, too much weight has burdened your shoulders. You are exhausted and tired of this war and we understand that.

"We have assembled a new task force to guard, control and supervise the Cybertronian population from now on. Starscream will be one of their officers once his name is cleared and his role in this war has been made known.

"I'm sure you agree with me that Cybertron needs guardians.

"Too many grudges are still fresh, too many injuries still bleed…. We need someone to watch and keep any future riots at bay. Such a war must _never _happen again!"

The senator looked at Optimus, "Do you understand?"

Prime nodded weakly, overwhelmed, still lost in his own thoughts, and partly horrified with what the Council had decided and put in precise and seemingly well-meaning words.

"Then you are dismissed. I hope you and your mechs will enjoy your retirement, Optimus."

They left the room with one final glance at Starscream, who still hadn't moved and didn't acknowledge them in any way.

* * *

Prime and his former officers made their way back through light and shadow, baffled by the recent events, all wishing for the sharp separation of black and white to still exist in their CPUs.  
But everything was just a blur of grey now, if they wanted to admit it, or not.

They all knew it, even if some still had to come to terms with how their new future would be.

"Soo…. That was pretty unexpected news about the Screamer, huh?" Jazz grinned uneasily, almost questiong.

"That _wasn't_ Starscream!" said Optimus forcefully.

Jazz flinched.

"That wasn't Starscream! It _never_ was! The mech designated Starscream died vorns ago during the crash!"

Prime stopped and stepped to one window, looking down at the newly rebuilt Iacon.

He could see figures below them, mechs and femmes alike.

Their appearance wasn't any different from any other Cybertronian surrounding them, they worked, laughed, chatted, lived….

But there was something in their optics....

No, quite the contrary, there was something _missing_ in their optics, that Optimus could now recognize instantly.

They weren't really alive, they had no real personality, no dreams, no goals other than serving the Council and to do what they were ordered to do.

Keeping watch about the others of their kind and to extinguish any spark of discontent and rebelliousness in its very beginnings.

Every single security mech he could see had lifeless optics, but what frightened him far more was the sheer number of ordinary neutrals or less famous Autobots that had that same, dull gaze, even if the rest of their behavior was fairly normal….

"That mech in the Council chamber wasn't Starscream. It was just a drone. A living, thinking drone, something the Council always wanted."

Prime wanted to scream, to cry, to laugh, to storm into the senate and to demand an explanation, to demand excuses, to shake Starscream until he showed some sign of life again, of true sentience, of _something_….

But he just settled for a tight little smile, full of bitterness and pain.

"I'm sorry, Megatron. You were right…. Primus, please forgive me…."

_

* * *

_

_They have achieved victory – but was it really worth it?_


	19. Exhausted

_Disclaimer: I own nothing – at least nothing Transformers related. _

_AN: Sorry for the long delay.  
I was quite busy for the last few weeks and then an idea for a One Shot entered my mind and wouldn't let go._

_Anyway, here is a new chapter._

_Not particularly long, not particularly funny but highly ironical._

_Thanks to mdnytryder for correcting this chapter. _

**

* * *

**

17/28 Exhausted (G1)

It had been a hard battle ,and no Decepticon had escaped the recently strengthened Autobots and their furious laser fire unscathed.  
Since Prime and his mechs had gotten reinforcements from Cybertron and had begun building a giant sentient Cybertronian city here on Earth, it seemed almost impossible to defeat them.

More often than not, Megatron's troops found themselves in the medbay of the Nemesis, sporting serious, life threatening injuries, where they formerly only had to deal with nasty scratches and some holes in their armor.

The Constructicons were pissed beyond comparison and had already declared that they would go on strike if the war continued in this manner.  
They were construction workers, not fully educated medics, and the piles of injured mechs after each fight were well beyond their limited abilities and even more limited patience.

Until now, there had been no Decepticon casualities, but it was only a matter of time before someone wouldn't return to active duty.  
They only question that remained was who would be the first to die.

Even when Megatron had a plan, as he had stated before this last battle, nobody was sure anymore, if their leader would manage to put it into action in time….

* * *

Starscream leaned against the hangar wall, cursing silently to himself.

His left wing was broken and large chunks of his chest armor had been blown away, leaving his delicate internals open for everyone to see and allowing them to get clogged with dust and a nasty Energon and Coolant mixture.

But most of the others were worse off, and for once, he didn't complain much and opted to suffer in silence, pitying himself and wishing death and the Unmaker on every new Autobot out there.  
May they rust in the Pit over an oil-fuelled flame, while smothered in acid mist.

The giant lift behind him came to life once again.

It opened slowly and revealed to sight a hunched over and bleeding Megatron, missing his left arm and parts of his cranium. The armor on the other arm was melted and torn to shreds.

The only reason he didn't just fall over was the ever loyal Soundwave, bleeding and damaged himself, who was half-supporting, half-carrying his Supreme Commander, his aching and moaning Creations limping by his feet.

Megatron gave an agonized grunt when his 3IC dragged him out of the lift and into the hangar.  
The silver Cybertronian's pale, pain-filled optics drifted through the room until they settled on Starscream.

For one long minute the Seeker thought that he would be recognized and sneered at, that his Commander would refuse to limp around with Soundwave's help any longer and swagger to the medbay all by himself, only to assert his superior status to Starscream once again.  
He awaited harsh words, reprimands, insults, mockery, ridicule, suspicion, accusations, anything….

It didn't come.

Behind the pain and agony in Megatron's too pale optics, there was no room left for recognition of the infamous traitor and usurper.  
Everyone of his thoughts was hazy and sluggish, circling around pain and blue and red paint.

Even Soundwave was far more concerned with getting his Commander to the medbay than worrying about Starscream and his not-so-noble intentions.

Both Cybertronians passed by the Seeker, not sparing him another glance, the Cassetticons trailing behind.

The Air Commander stared after them intently, pain forgotten for the moment.

He would recognize such a golden opportunity even if he had been blown to pieces.

Megatron was vulnerable and weak, Soundwave occupied and inattentive, the little menaces nothing more than a bunch of broken toy soldiers.

He hesitated for a moment, than he lifted his left arm and targeted the back of his greatest adversary with his nullray.  
The weapon slowly began to charge, draining even more power out of his depleted systems.

Starscream looked at the silver plates, the mud in between them, the Energon dripping to the floor.  
Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

He sneered when his weapon reached their full charge.

One shot was all it would take and his dreams would come true….

He didn't do it.

Starscream lowered his weapon and sucked the energy back into his grateful body.

There would always be another time.

Perhaps, after Megatron had completed and executed his next "great" plan.

The Seeker slid down the wall and offlined his optics with a groan.

Right now he was just too slagging tired….

_

* * *

_

Somehow I have the feeling Starscream regretted this decision for the rest of his life – and afterlife.


	20. Disheveled

_Disclaimer: I own nothing – at least nothing Transformers related. I don't own the quotes from"Dune" or "Star Wars" either. _

_AN: Look at me, I'm still alive and kicking, who would have thought….  
__I know it's been a long time since you last heard from me, but well, the real life is just cruel and time consuming sometimes._

_Thanks to mdnytryder for correcting this chapter. _

**

* * *

**

18/28 Disheveled (G1, the continuity should seem familiar to you….)

Sometimes Starscream didn't know why they even tried anymore.

He and his comrades flew into battle, guns blazing, insults on their lips and cocky grins on their faceplates, ready for action and Energon.  
The Autobots arrived, Prime gave a noble speech, posed a little bit for any human spectators that were either too suicidal or too stupid to run and would stand there staring at the giant, shiny robot as if their alien visitors hadn't been on Earth for – what was it? Six, seven years now?

Then the battle would begin, all glory and violence, howls of rage and cries of pain filling the formerly clear blue sky. Smoke weaved patterns in the air, broken by bright laser shots – poetry, really, at least in Starscream's optics.

Until it all came to a standstill….

As usual.

The laser fire slowly faded in lazy, infrequent beams, the furious combat died down to poking and prodding at each other, to slow circling and exhausted vigilance, everyone waiting for the distinct call of retreat.

The only ones still earnestly fighting were Megatron and Optimus Prime, locked in hand-to-hand combat on a hill off the actual battlefield.  
They grunted and struggled and every time this happened, Starscream wondered to himself why nobody, not even he , ever used this opportunity to get rid of both of them once and for all while they only had optics for each other.

He wondered and mused about it, idly flying circles above the waiting and feigning armies, now and then firing shots at the dirt near the yellow twin, amused by his angry howling over his "wonderful, glossy, gleaming, beautiful (but sadly, now infinitesimally scratched) finish" – and didn't act upon his thoughts of an easy kill of both faction leaders.

As usual.

All that really mattered to Starscream right now was that he was tired, almost out of fuel, and singed at the wingtips.  
They hadn't won one ounce of Energon and, at one point, the slagging twins had downed Thrust and now he had to fly home with the whiny conehead and listen to him moan and groan about it.  
Finally back at base he would have to endure the usual, "Why Starscream made us all fail"speech and/or a severe beating.

A few minutes later he had managed to work himself into quite a rage, muttering to himself about the injustice of the world, the universe and life in general, blaming Megatron, the Autobots, Soundwave, the Autobots, Megatron, the squishies, the twins, Megatron….

Just as usual.

What wasn't usual was the searing pain that suddenly pierced his right thruster, and the feeling of falling through the air.  
The ground was getting closer and closer, and his sensors went mad. He was spinning so quickly that he had no control over where he would crash, either onto the hard-packed dirt or the wet, concrate-like surface of the nearby lake.

'And down I go,' he thought wryly and he switched most of his sensors off.  
He didn't need them to tell him the inevitable.

Just a few seconds now, yes, right one time – here was the crash….

It was… painful and… humiliating… and… soft?

Before the Seeker could wonder further about the strange squashy feeling and the sound of tearing and crackling paper, metal groaned underneath him and suddenly he found himself sliding down into a warm fluid that rapidly got stickier.

Starscream transformed out of jetmode and onlined his optics, only to recoil in shock and disgust.

"You've got to be kidding me…."

On the roadway in front of him, he saw a truck cab lying on its side, wheels still spinning rapidly, with a groggy human holding his head stitting next to him.

Normally, the sight wouldn't have fazed Starscream in the least.  
After all, the truck had cushioned his fall.

But the trailer, whose sides showed the bright, cheerful logo of a bubblegum factory, had been crushed and ripped wide open by the falling Seeker's weight.  
Said trailer and Sekker had skidded along the ground and ended up in the waters of the nearby lake.  
Usually, even that wouldn't have been a problem, but the water was warm - a human would say, close to boiling - having been heated earlier from numerous, stray laser shots.

Starscream looked down at the sickly looking, sticky goo collecting around, over and inside him.

He did the only thing he could think of:

He turned his optics skywards and sobbed, "Oh Primus, why me? Why do you hate me so much to punish me so severely? Why me?"

The sound of feet distracted him from his misery long enough to spot a bulky red mech come towards him, a proud, confident swagger in his steps, a big gun firmly in his grip and aimed squarely at the Air Commander's spark, face sporting a huge, nasty grin.

Ironhide casually rounded a pinkish puddle on the ground and stopped right before the bubblegum-covered Seeker, unnecessarily remarking, "I've got you."

Starscream looked at the Autobot blankly, then his mood shifted from miserable to righteous fury in a matter of seconds.

"Don't you even dare…," he hissed lowly, almost emitting a dark aura.

Starscream struggled against the bubblegum that was trying to keep him down and turn him into a giant, colorful, sticky ball, and stood up.  
He batted away the gun that was trained on him and stepped out of the lake.

Ironhide opened his mouth to protest, but was silenced with one single, dark glare that would have sent the Unmaker himself running back to whatever served as a Creator for him.  
The red mech stepped back out of the way, more than a little bit flustered and actually caught himself trying to hide his rifle behind his back.

Starscream didn't spare him a second glance, calmly struggling on, until he was almost in the middle of the battlefield, surrounded by dozens of staring mechs who either tried to hide their laughter, winced in sympathy or who openly lay on the ground guffawing.

The Seeker took one long look at everyone around him, then declared calmly, "I've had enough. I'm going home now."

He turned around to do as stated, accompanied by the laughing and mocking of his fellow Decepticons, only to come face to face with Prowl, who paused for a second, seemed to think things over, than stated firmly, "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid that isn't possible. You see, Ironhide shot you down and had you in a position without any escape routes. Logically that means you're our prisoner now."

He poked Starscream slightly with his rifle.

Red optics narrowed, then the Seeker hissed in the most venomous voice anyone had ever heard out of his vocalizer, "Shall I show you exactly where you can shove your fragging logic? It will be right there, where your fragging acid pellets will be in a moment! Believe me, I will find it very enjoyable, but for you it WON'T. BE. PRETTY!"

Prowl blinked and backed up, rechecking his options and deciding that sometimes you should forget logic in favor of your instincts for self-preservation.

But Starscream was far from finished.

"Do you really think, I will return with you to your slagging base that looks like a giant orange piece of gingerbread that Primus himself vomited, only to get molested again by those glitching twin morons of yours that share one Spark and no processor under the guise of some really degrading form of water torture?  
Only to then get yelled at by your medic for being stupid and getting hurt, even if I AM the enemy and SUPPOSED to get hurt by his comrades, to be poked at and prodded and then thrown into the brig to be bored to death when I don't manage to arrange my own entertainment?

"Sure, death by boredom always beats getting brainwashed by evil squishy literature until I can only drool and murmur such fragtastic thing like 'There is no passion, only peace' and 'Fear is the little death', or getting preached into self termination by Optimus 'Prophet' Prime or being driven mad after listenting to little Motormouth there, or whatever else you can think of to torture me with!

"HEY! I know, why don't you find a squid to torture me with, while you're at it?  
I'm sure Skywarp, Rumble and Frenzy know exactly where to find one that's hungry for a delectable Seeker, and would just LOVE to devour me!

"SO WHY THE SLAG DON'T YOU GO AHEAD AND IMPRISON ME ALREADY? I'M WAITING!"

Prowl said nothing, utterly subdued.

Starscream took this as his cue to continue his rant, switching languages as he went on and on, cursing everything and nothing until even Skyfire didn't know what language Starscream was using as he described Megatron's ancestors down to the last little detail and what the silver mech and Prime could do with and to each other.

Finally the mother of all tantrums ended and the Seeker ignited his thrusters with a quiet huff of still simmering rage.  
Nobody stopped him and nobody dared to laugh when his right thruster formed a giant, pink bubble and exploded, spreading pieces of bubblegum everywhere as he shot into the air and vanished in the distance.

The battlefield was utterly silent.

Optimus Prime shifted nervously and was quite embarrassed.  
He was able to translate some of Starscream's earlier suggestions,and if he would have been a human, he would be quite red and mortified at some of the suggestions.

His gaze wandered over the battlefield, but was halted when he came across the twins, and his optics widened in pure, unadulterated horror.

Immediately he commed his dazed-looking Second in Command.

"Prowl, I want you to instantly add 'Kidnapping Starscream', 'Molesting Starscream', 'Bathing Starscream' and 'Jetjudoing Starscream' to the twin's black list."

Prowl frowned, still shaken from witnessing the outburst, "Jetjudoing? Why"

"Look at the twins. Actually, as I reflect on it, add anything and everything having to do with Starscream that you can think of to the list."

Prowl obeyed his Commander and gazed at his favorite culprits, who stood in awe and stared after the white Seeker with vacant smiles on their faces, their optics almost showing a pink hue.

The Datsun shuddered in horror and realization: Starscream had stood up to Ironhide, made him back off, out-cursed Ratchet effortlessly, had a knack for ridiculous schemes, was almost as vain as Sunstreaker, insulted the twins fearlessly, had no respect for authority….

He was a perfect match for the two, a match made in the pit.

And they even knew how to overload him already.

Oh Primus, have mercy….

"Will do immediately, Sir. Consider it as done", he commed back, already running his battle computer to find every single possibility how the twins could bend a rule to get what they wanted.

Optimus Prime relaxed in relief, only to be reminded that he still stood beside his greatest foe, who observed him with a mix of amusement and wariness, "Do I even want to know?"

Prime hurriedly and decidedly shook his head, "Pit, NO!"

Megatron shrugged and looked after his fleeing SIC, "Very well."

Now it was Optimus who was curious, "Shouldn't you be angry and order Starscream back?"

Megatron regarded Optimus gravely, then stated, "Prime, a good leader has to know when it's better to simply back off, let your mechs be and get the pit out of the line of fire!"

"Ah," Optimus nodded understandingly.

Some seconds passed then Megatron asked, "Now that's over, perhaps we could… you know… continue?"

Megatron dropped back into battle stance and Prime happily did the same.

Sometimes the usual was the best thing that could happen.

_

* * *

_

Next time: Daring.  
I just love this particular universe. Tell me when it becomes too much.

For those who love the Cassetticons, especially Rumble and Frenzy, take a look at "Fairytale Gone Bad".


	21. Daring

_Disclaimer: I own nothing – at least nothing Transformers related._

_AN: The next one. A little revenge for "Silly", Starscream-style._

_Thanks to mdnytryder for correcting this chapter. _

**

* * *

**

19/28 Daring or "Sweet Revenge" (G1, 'Starscream against the world' continuity… wait, that IS G1, isn't it?)

Most thought that Skywarp had joined the Decepticons for two reasons.

One of these reasons was clearly Megatron himself.  
The black and purple Seeker obviously, and very vocally, worshipped the ground Megatron walked upon and whatever atmospheric substance the gunformer cycled through his vents.

There were even rumors that the jetformer was far more loyal than Soundwave could ever be – partly because most mechs thought Skywarp too dumb to even understand the very act of treachery. Or how one would accomplish it.

The other reason for Skywarp's presence in Megatron's ranks was that he simply walked into a recruiter's office one day and signed up because he had been told to do so and had nothing better to do.

Most thought that Skywarp had joined the Decepticons for these two reasons….

They were wrong.

It was true that the black Seeker had a bad case of hero-worship rhen it came to Megatron and he wasn't the most intelligent mech around.  
But when you got his wingmates drunk enough to ramble, Thundercracker and Starscream would begin to list all the points that had convinced them, over the course of many vorns as a trine, that Skywarp was actually quite a smart mech.  
He just didn't realize it.

And his trinemates weren't in any hurry to tell him.

As long as Skywarp thought he was dumb as a slice of bread, as the humans put it, he wouldn't get any ideas about actually putting his smarts to a good use – like pranking, for example.

Oh, how dire the consequences if the jetformer ever discovered he had a working processor….

The base would never be the same.

Actually, Cybertron would never be the same.

However, in reality, Skywarp's reason for joining the Decepticon cause was for the pranking.  
He just loved to see others fall into his traps and he'd laugh himself silly in the process.

Sadly, his friends tended to vanish from his life without leaving a forwarding address when this happened a few times too often.

After hearing the recruitment speeches on Cybertron, Skywarp had concluded that as long as he was a part of an actual army, his pranked peers couldn't run away from him anymore.  
They were stuck with him, whether they liked it or not.

Thus, joining the Decepticons equaled an almost endless supply of victims.

An endless supply of victims meant no boredom.

No boredom meant fun.

Fun was good!

For all his foresight, poor Skywarp had failed to notice one thing:

He could get pranked in return, too.

So it was a bit of a shock when he found himself standing in front of Megatron, timidly looking into the pit-fire bright optics of his fuming superior, fearing that he was about to get slagged at any moment, and unable to utter one, single, syllable out of his vocalizer.

Well, he mused in some distant part of his shell-shocked processor, at least I'm not alone in this.

* * *

There were some rules in the Decepticon army you just didn't break.

Skywarp, Rumble and Frenzy knew this and had accepted it with the knowledge that not crossing these particular lines kept them in good working order and enabled them to keep pranking.

But right now, these rules had shattered and taken their entire worldview with them:

Starscream. Sat. On. The Throne!

Skywarp offlined his optics and onlined them again, hoping for a minor malfunction in both of them.  
No such luck.

His crazy, glitch-ridden, really-asking-for-it-this-time Air Commander sat, or better, lounged on Megatron's private throne.

Starscream had sauntered onto the bridge mere moments ago, without a word of greeting or acknowledgement.  
He headed straight to the giant chair in the middle of the room, called The Throne by every Decepticon, and placed his aft on it like it was a common occurrence.

Granted, it probably was when Megatron was away on Cybertron and Starscream was alone in the Command Center.

But, in this instance, Megatron was not on Cybertron, he was here, on the Nemesis, having just left the room to get some Energon.  
He would return in a minute or two and Starscream didn't look like he was about to get off The Throne anytime soon.

On the contrary, the crazy, little slagger seemed to have gotten quite comfortable.

Starscream had one leg swung over one arm rest and was leaning on the other, resting his head on one hand, grinning smugly at the three mechs, one blue, one red, one black and violet, gaping at him.

What was even more of a puzzle to Frenzy, Rumble and Skywarp's processors, was Ravage's presence in the room.  
The panther like Cassetticon lay right next to The Throne and watched the scene emotionlessly, with a bored expression.  
Usually he would report any inappropriate behavior from the Second in Command to Megatron or Soundwave immediately.

Skywarp finally managed to close his mouth, his CPU partially rebooting.

Before he could demand to know 'What the slag Starscream was doing there? Was he completely suicidal now or just the universe's greatest masochist?', his trineleader smirked at him with a devilish glint in his optics, hit the base-wide intercomm button on the armrest of his seat, and began to speak.

Except it wasn't his usual voice.

Far from it.

"I am Megatron, oh-so-wonderful leader of the magnificent Decepticons, lord of the universe and so deeply in love with Optimus Prime I'm even starting a war just to be able to see him more often." Starscream announced this with a surprisingly deep voice that sounded like a very bad imitation of himself, doing a very good parody of Megatron.

Three jaws met the floor again while Ravage didn't even flick an audio in the red and white Seeker's direction.

"Oh Prime, you're so wonderful, oh how I love you. But I'm too much of a wimp to say it to your face.  
You would never love me, I'm too fat and too old and my paintjob is so outdated I can't even use the excuse that it's 'classic' anymore. Oh Starscream, my loyal and wise Second in Command, what shall I do?"

The three jaws tried to signal their relative processors to close them – without success. They prepared themselves for a long wait….

Starscream changed his position on The Throne, sitting straighter and puffing his chest.  
His voice, still too deep to ever possibly be a product of his glitched-up vocalizer, changed as well, getting slightly higher.

"I'm afraid this time even I can't help you, oh dumb one.  
I'm working on it, but my wisdom still does not empower me to do the impossible. In another two thousand vorns I perhaps could help you, but right now, my best suggestion, oh ugly one, is for you to go to 'face with yourself or to cry yourself into deactivation alone in your quarters because of your unimaginable hideousness.

"I will keep the Decepticons in line for you, like I should have been doing since the very beginning because I am a much better leader than you ever could be....

"And to spare some of my precious time, you can read the rest of my arguments in this little book, called 'Why Starscream Is Much Better Than Megatron And Should Lead The Decepticons – All The reasons On Twenty Thousand And Three Pages' - the new bestseller written by me, about me."

The voice changed back to the deeper pitch.

"Oh thank you Starscream, thank you, let me kiss your feet and worship your …."

Ravage's tail flicked slightly and in an instant Starscream stood a good three meters away from The Throne like nothing had happened, a disapproving frown on his face as he glared at the three shell-shocked mechs.

Skywarp managed to register Ravage shaking his head at them, the black mech also showing a distinct scowl, as the door opened and a furious Megatron stomped into the room, ready to murder someone slowly and preferably, repeatedly.

The blazing red optics instantly focused on Starscream, "YOU!"

Starscream jumped and looked at his superior, raising his hands in defense.

"What?" he asked in his usual, rasping and screechy voice, having the audacity to actually look indignant, "Do I honestly sound like I could have done that?"

Megatron contemplated his SIC for a moment, then swept his pit-promising glare over Ravage and to home in on Skywarp and the Cassetticon twins.

* * *

While Skywarp still waited for his CPU to reboot far enough to develop the utter and complete panic this situation deserved, he couldn't help but feel a little bit of admiration for his Air Commander.

That was flawlessly done – and even he, Rumble and Frenzy together had never gotten Ravage to help them with a prank.

If he survived Megatron's wrath – something he seriously doubted – he would ask Screamer how he had managed it.  
And how in the pit he had changed his voice like that….


	22. Horny

_Disclaimer: I own nothing – at least nothing Transformers related._

_AN: Short and utter crack._

_Thanks to mdnytryder for correcting this chapter. _

**

* * *

**

20/28 Horny (G1, not to be taken overly seriously)

Thundercracker stared.  
And then he stared some more.

He offlined his optics, onlined them again – and continued staring.

When he finally found his vocalizer again he murmured slowly, "This… this is just… just…."  
The blue Seeker shook his head, still blinking at the strange sight right before him.

Leaning beside him against the wall, Starscream sighed, his lips twitching. "I know TC, I know…. I feel exactly the same way."

Several hundred meters away from the two observing Seekers, the glorious Decepticon army, Megatron's elite and the terror of Cybertron and Earth, was howling, cursing and (in a few cases) guffawing as they chased a herd of four-legged, brown or black-and-white animals with large horns and long tails over the grassy floor of the dome.

Megatron stood right in the midst of the chaos and bellowed orders, but only succeeded in scaring the panicked cattle even more.

Starscream shook his head in unison with Thundercracker, who was still trying to wrap his processor around the fact that Megatron's latest scheme involved the cows of Earth and their digestion.

The Supreme Commander had overheard a conversation between Starscream and Skywarp as they joked about using the farts of cattle, which contained a great deal of flammable methane to produce energy to convert into Energon.

Megatron had taken the quips of both Seekers at face value, commandeered the Constructicons to build a giant oxygen-filled dome on the floor of the ocean, to fill it with plants and then had ordered his troops to steal every living cow they could find.

Starscream still wasn't quite sure what he should think of this latest plan of his illustrious leader.  
He hadn't even uttered any comments yet, too confused and amused at the same time.

Skywarp, one the other hand, had laughed himself silly once Megatron had delivered his orders.  
He thought the whole thing was hilarious and couldn't be dissuaded from leaving crop circles wherever he stole cattle.

Starscream spared a glance at Thundercracker, who was still shaking his head.  
He suspected something had finally frozen in the other flyers' processor at the sheer stupidity of the situation.

The red and white Seeker sighed.

Just what would the Autobots say, when they finally found out?

_

* * *

_

New poll.

_Please vote for the next chapter._


	23. Special 3: Sympathy

__

Disclaimer: I own nothing – at least nothing Transformers related.

_AN: For mdnytryder, who suggested the title "Sympathy" originally for another story. Background music "Eva" from Nightwish and "Zombie" from The Cranberries._

_Could be the same continuity as "Naïve" and/or "Caring"._

_Thanks to mdnytryder for correcting this chapter. _

**

* * *

**

Special 3: Sympathy or Little White Lies (postG1, Ghost Starscream)

There was nothing left but ruins.

Wherever Starscream looked he saw only once proud buildings, now completely destroyed in a war that didn't belong to their builders, and corpses lying smashed and burned in puddles of greenish-yellow fluid, this species' form of blood.

This planet had been beautiful once, he mused, in a strange, purely organic way.

Wide expanses of grass and small plants and areas of thick jungles, small oceans with lilac-colored water, no poles (the planet rotated around two axes, not just one like most), comfortable temperatures over the course of the whole year, humid air….

A paradise for the humanoid, vegetable species that had lived here in their light bluish houses made out of stone, living plants and colored glass.

And now, thanks to the intruding mechanoids bringing their war to this peaceful world, everything was lost.  
Forever.

Like so many times before, Autobots and Decepticons had spread destruction and despair until nothing was left.

And Starscream had followed in their wake, in a morbid case of curiosity, to view the carnage and chaos and to witness again and again what his species, as a whole, was capable of.  
There was nothing left on this planet, only dust and the dead.

Primus wept over his children….

Movement to his right prompted him to float over to a pile of rubble to have a look.  
Something shifted beneath the stones and rubble, then a small, greenish hand appeared, searching for some leverage to pull the owner out of the horrible grave this pile could be become.

Starscream hesitated, then he slowly shoved a piece of metal near the seeking appendage, holding it in place with a transparent foot and a lot of mental effort.

The hand brushed against the piece, stilled at the completely foreign feeling (this world hadn't known metal before the Cybertronian invasion), then it closed around a sharp edge and pulled.

Slowly but surely the rubble moved and first a head and then part of a chest appeared.

It was a Youngling of the planet's once-dominant species, Starscream concluded, a creature best described as "female" even if the genders of this particular species were hard to determine. He had categorized at least five different gender types among the dead humanoids, and with some corpses he wasn't entirely sure where to classify them.

The female shifted again, pale green eyes moving without seeing anything – she was blind, blinded by one of the explosions, for all he knew.

Her "hair" was black in color, with a bluish tint, and her features oddly expressive for something that had possibly evolved out of a weed.

"Is anybody there?" the femme rasped, still trying to see without eyesight, her voice small and desperate.  
Her too-pale eyes wandered about, shifting above carnage she would never be able to see (which was better for her sanity, Starscream decided) until they suddenly homed in on Starscream's spectral shape.

"Hello? Is anybody there? Please, answer," she sounded more confident now, still doubting, but convinced.

Could she somehow feel him?  
Had this species possessed telepathic abilities?

Starscream was torn between staying to satisfy his mostly scientific curiosity, and vanishing to follow the Cybertronian armies back into the vast emptiness of space.

In the end, his curiosity won.

"I am here."

The female Youngling sagged in relief, "Please, help me."

Starscream hesitated and looked over the pieces of rubble confining her.  
They were too big to be lifted by his pathetic abilities.  
If he had still been alive it would have been no problem, but as a ghost, a mere reflection of what he once had been, an afterimage of a life wasted and lost….

"I can't. I… was injured in the attack. I can't lift anything."

The desperation in the femme's face returned again.

Starscream floated nearer and knelt down, bringing his face close to hers. "You don't need my help. It feels heavier than it is."

She stared at him with her unseeing eyes, then she began to pull and wiggle, trusting a complete stranger.  
It… intrigued Starscream somehow.

Could one be able to trust so blindly?  
Or was it just a shared trait of the naïve Younglings of all species in the universe?

He watched as she fought and worked herself out of the debris until she finally rested beside it.

"Well done," praised Starscream for a lack of something better to say.

She smiled, exhausted, then sat up and looked around, still straining to see.

"What's your name?" She asked finally.

Starscream sat down beside her, marveling again how tiny most other species were in comparison to a Cybertronian's bulk. "My friends call me Star."  
'If I had friends….'

"I'm Miree. Is… is it already nighttime? I can't see." The Yongling turned her face to him, slight lines of worry on her forehead.

Starscream looked around, at all the corpses lying in the pale sunlight and the many fires crackling in the ruins.  
He quickly analyzed all the information he had gathered when he had studied the battlefield and the casualities.  
There was a distinct possibility that this species was practically blind at nighttime.

Somehow this information brought him relief.

"Yes, it is."

Apparently he wasn't the only one relieved, as Miree's shoulders sagged, "I was worried. I'm not in my second stage of development yet. Can you see?"

Second stage of development?  
Perhaps his former theory wasn't that sound….

Could only the adults see in the dark?  
He would ask, but then she would know that he wasn't like her….

"I can see. If you want, I will be your eyes until dawn."

She smiled, thin dots along her brow lighting up to a pale lavender.

It was… adorable in a slightly disgusting, organic way.

"I can't feel anyone else around…. Have they all run away from the gleaming monsters?"  
There was so much hope in her voice and no hint of the ugly question 'When they did, then why did they leave me here?'

Starscream looked at the carnage and then back at the little femme.

He didn't know why, but he just couldn't take her hopes away. "They fled. I saw them running to the north. We can go searching for them, if you like. I don't think the monsters will return very soon."

The youngling stood up, clearly showing signs of being familiar with temporary darkness.

She held her hand out in his general direction, "That would be nice, Star. Should I help you up?"

Starscream stared at her hand and then at his own translucent limb.  
He managed a wrily half-smile, "Err... thanks. I think I will manage... somehow."

He vanished and appeared right beside Miree, her head turning around to face him again.  
She clearly could sense him, at least to an extent.  
Fascinating.

"Will you be able to follow my voice, little one?" he asked with a frown.  
He wouldn't be able to lead her physically.

She nodded and stepped forward, almost tripping over an arm ripped from its owner.

"Move to the right", Starscream hurriedly instucted, not willing to destroy her illusion.

She obeyed without a question, moving like they had done something like this a thousand times before.

Perhaps she had, Starscream mused as he followed her through the destroyed town, directing her through the rubble and avoiding the dead.  
It would be logical for this planet's Creators to lead their offspring through the dark just like this.

He would have liked to know more about this species, but unfortunately it seemed as if his little femme was the only one left on the whole planet.

His thoughts wandered as he tried to determine the best way to tell Miree about her sad destiny.

"Your voice sounds strange."

This little, innocent question brought him back to the real world and he instantly bristled.  
He had heard enough jokes about his voice for two lifetimes (and beyond that), he didn't need a tiny organic laughing at him, too.

"Does it now…" he murmured tensely, watching the little thing walking beside him closely.

She smiled her lavender tinted smile and nodded, pale eyes calm, "I like it. It is special. That means you are special. Don't you think so?"

She turned to face him as they walked.

Starscream didn't know what to say.  
Nobody had ever described his voice as something special in a positive way.  
Or even said that they liked it.

Even Skyfire had only managed a lame, "It's certainly unique."

"Thank you," he murmured, now slightly flustered.  
This little femme was certainly strange.

"Well, it's the truth. It is special and your accent sounds nice." She smiled again, lavender dots flashing.

Starscream grimaced.  
Accent, yeah right.

His kind had a CPU superior to the mush every organic carried around in their heads (or other places) and they could learn other languages in a matter of mere seconds to some minutes – but they just couldn't find a way to erase the metallic undertone their vocalizer created.

"Your voice isn't that bad either," he answered lamely.

He wasn't good at this stuff.  
He could insult and order, even kiss up to somebody if it was required, but he could not, for the life of him, compliment another being without it sounding forced.

But the little femme didn't seem to care and just smiled.

It was foolish, Miree couldn't even see it, but for some reason Starscream couldn't comprehend, he made an effort to smile back.

They wandered further, leaving the town behind and reaching a wasteland. Where once had bloomed wonderful flowers, there was just dust.

Miree hesitated when her bare feet touched the dead land, but when Starscream encouraged her to go on, she followed his voice with a trust that again left him wondering.

He just had to ask, "Miree? Why do you trust me? We don't even know each other? For all you know I could be one of the monsters. Or the ghost of one, trying to eat your soul or something like that."

The Youngling began to giggle, a sound that reminded Starscream of wind caressing fine metal pipes. He liked it somehow – even if it came from a disgusting organic.

"I don't think these things have ghosts. They would need a soul to leave one behind when they die. And you have a soul, I can feel it. It feels… like a warm, bright light, like a little sun. Is that the reason they call you Star? Because your soul is as bright and beautiful as one?"

Such innocence….

Such a completely inverted image she had of him.

He suddenly felt ashamed of himself, and strangely enough, for his species, too.

"I don't know, I never asked."

Starscream fell silent after that, pondering over what Miree had said.

A warm Spark, a bright Spark. That just didn't seem to fit.

Nobody would ever have joked over something like this back on his home planet.  
It was just too… wrong.

After some time he noticed that Miree was slowing down, her movements becoming more sluggish and uncoordinated.

He grew concerned and surprised himself with this emotion, "Are you tired? We can rest here if you want."

Miree hesitated, then she nodded and sank to the ground, clearly exhausted, her face pale and her breath short. "Do we have to go on much longer? I'm not feeling very well."

Starscream's worry grew and he wished he still had his scanners.  
"No, not much longer," he answered absentmindedly, as he gave her a visual once-over.

He bit back a curse at what he found.

How did he manage to overlook that?

There was a wound in the back of her leg, steadily leaking blood.  
Miree was too numb because of the shock to feel the pain – but Starscream should have seen the damage when he first met the little femme.

Now that he thought about it, she certainly would have internal damage, too.  
She would not end up living a lonely life after all.

Starscream didn't know if he should be happy or sad about that knowledge.

He knelt down beside her and slowly extended a hand, almost touching her before he decided otherwise.

"I'm… I'm sure we will reach the others soon. You'll see. They will all be amazed at how brave you are."

She smiled again, this lavender-tinted smile he could come to cherish – had come to treasure in only a few hours of her company.  
This was so confusing....

How could one little organic femme mean more to him than most members of his own species?

Just because she was nice to him?  
Because she knew no prejudice?  
Because she trusted him so easily and would never hurt him knowingly?  
Because she truly needed him?

Only once before had he felt so utterly helpless….

He hated this feeling but couldn't bring himself to hate Miree for making him experience it. Never….

"It's cold…," the Youngling whispered, hugging herself to keep warm.

Starscream looked up to see that the sun began to set.

He hesitated, then said, "The sun will rise soon. Then it will become warm."

She smiled again, still trusting, always trusting.

"Then I will be able to see again. I will finally be able to see you. Who knows, perhaps I have seen you before but never spoke to you? Wouldn't that be funny?"

Starscream floated anxiously around her, not knowing what he should do, "I doubt that. I was… on a journey though, you know?"

"Oh…. Did you see many things while traveling?" She sounded even more exhausted now and seemed to struggle against falling asleep.

Starscream knelt down next to her, "Yes, I did. Some things were astounding, other things, not so much. And some things were simply special and incomparable. I will tell you sometime, okay? Now you should sleep. You have a long journey ahead of you, little one."

Miree lay down, curling up in the dust as best as she could, smiling again, always smiling….

"You'll wait for me, right Star? And then we will find the others. My parents will be happy to meet you…." She blinked and her too-pale eyes darkened.

Starscream hesitated, then he brushed his nonexistent fingers over her hair, willing it to move so that she could feel the caress.

She smiled again, just for him, and he smiled back, feeling his immortal Spark break like it had never been broken before, not really understanding why.

"I will wait for you. Everything will be all right, Miree. Everything will be all right…."

* * *

He stayed by her side through the whole night.

Even when her breath stopped, and whatever counted as her heart went silent, he stayed and watched over her.  
Just because it felt right, somehow.

Starscream sat there, silently brushing her hair when a strange glow began to appear all around him.  
He looked up to see the town they had left just hours earlier almost as bright as at daytime, only the he light was somehow softer.

When the same sort of glow began to emit from the ground not far from him, he stood up, ready to defend himself and protect Miree's body, if needed.

Tendrils broke out of the dirt and a strange creature heaved itself on the surface, some sort of plant with no apparent features but a bluish blossom that reminded him eerily of a head. A head with a large jaw.

He took a step back.

The creature took no notice of him.  
It made its way over to Miree's dead body, parts of it always staying in the ground, and lifted the little body effortlessly.

Starscream took a step closer, ready to defend the little femme, even if it was completely illogically and he could do next to nothing.

Now the strange plant seemed to "see" him and turned to fully face him, the little body pressed closely against its "chest" as if protecting it.

For a long time they both stood there, evaluating each other.  
Then the plant being suddenly lost it's tenseness and extended one tendril to brush Starscream's cheek.

The ghost gasped when it actually touched him and felt completely real.

And suddenly he knew that this plant creature was just like him – and more.

It was a spirit - a spirit sent by this living world.

The tendril moved back and the creature, an extension of the giant sentient planet Starscream stood on at that very moment, melted into the ground again, taking Miree with it.

Starscream knew now, that the planet would wait some time until it was sure that every threat to its children was far away, then it would cover its surface with life again.

Like Cybertron would do, once the horrible war finally ended.

He sat down again and watched the sun rise in a lavender sky.

He wondered what the Autobots would have thought of the entire previous day.

They would have probably called him a liar, a typical Decepticon. Every sentient creature had a right to know the truth after all….

But if he would have told Miree the truth in every cruel detail, they would have probably called him merciless.  
Again, a typical Decepticon trait….

But how could they say that, while they had helped to lay this whole planet to waste…?

He shook his head, getting rid of these thoughts.

It didn't matter what they thought.

Some things just _shouldn't_ matter.  
There were so much more important things out there.

That had taught him a lavender smile….


	24. Turned On

_Disclaimer: I own nothing – at least nothing Transformers related._

_AN: Short and hopefully at least a little bit funny. I was a little bit at a loss what to do with this prompt._

_Thanks to mdnytryder for correcting this chapter. _

**

* * *

**

21/28 Turned On (G1)

The wind howled like a banshee and flicked almost painfully against his wings and ailerons.  
Thick hailstones pinged off of his metallic skin, leaving dents and tiny, but annoyingly painful, scratches.  
Icy water poured from the dark violet and pitch-black clouds all around him, switching direction every moment with the roaring winds, finding any nook and cranny, every gap in his usually so-sturdy armor.

While his canopy was frozen over from the chilly atmosphere above him – already fragile ice flowers showed all over the yellow glass, filling every little chip and crack - his undercarriage was almost damp from the warm air rising beneath him, which was causing the slagging tempest Starscream flew through.

He would name the fragging storm Skywarp, he decided.

Starscream was the best flyer that had ever been sparked, that was common knowledge, even if only grudgingly admitted by some mechs, but he hated storms of all kinds with a passion and avoided them whenever he could.

He suspected that his little phobia had been spawned by one certain incident millions of vorns ago, in which he had lost his best friend, his reputation, his life as he had known it and perhaps, even some part of himself.

Snowstorms were the worst, but thunderstorms ranked right up there in second place.

He tried to tighten his cables and connections when another gust of wind shoved him playfully around, pushing against his wings as if trying to flip him over in midair.  
The panels of his wings groaned lowly in protest, but gave no sign of giving out or ripping anytime soon.

Good, one worry less for poor, old Screamer.

He really didn't want to fall right now.  
If his wings decided they had taken enough abuse in this damn, fragging storm, he would never reach land in time.  
Beneath him was the Pacific Ocean and land was… somewhere... (He took one long sensor sweep in all directions.) in the distance....

Starscream muttered a silent curse under his breath.

He knew he should have waited the typhoon out – but nooooo….

Starscream, prince of the skies, tyrant of the firmament, ruler of the winds and lord of the clouds could take a little bit of wind and rain.  
He had almost reached his destination, the Nemesis after all, and there would be questions if he arrived too late.

Questions he couldn't answer without being ridiculed in the process.

Who ever heard of a Seeker fearing the skies?

As Air Commander, he had to be able to conquer any little storm standing in his way.

Starscream cursed again and entertained himself with the nasty little image of how Megatron would fare in this lovely typhoon, with all its hail and rain and wind and – WOAHHH!!!

Starscream's sensors exploded in white hot nothingness for one split second, then they flickered back to life again, leaving the jet reeling and disorientated.

If he had been in robot mode, he would have tried to shake his head to clear it, but in his alternate shape he could only wait for his systems to reboot and finish their check up before he finally could think about what exactly had happened.

If he remembered correctly, he had been thinking about Megatron screaming like a little girl and taking an ice cold bath in the ocean below, then – YIKES!!!!!!!!!!!!

Starscream screeched as yet another flash of lightning hit him, surging through all of his systems, leaving him tumbling head over heels into the next cloudbank.  
Sparkling electricity flickered over his plating, tingling and leaving a definitely pleasant feeling.

Starscream only had time to wonder about what had hit him THIS time, when the next thunderbolt hit the tip of one wing, wandered through his frame and left his machinery through the other wing.

Ohhh….

He should fly in thunderstorms more often.

Definitely.

It tingled so wonderfully and suddenly all of his systems reported that his tank and Energon lines were full and his inner workings were running on maximum capacity.

He giggled and aimed for the next flash of crackling light right before him.  
That was fun and good and Skywarp would just love this, but Starscream wouldn't tell him ("nana nana nanaaanaaa"), this was his private storm, and he had named the storm Skywarp anyway and he didn't make any sense, but look, there was the next lightning and – look at all those stars and colors, sooooo pretty.

Somehow, in some part of his processor, Starscream groggily registered that he was absolutely and utterly high.

And he loved every second of it.

Electricity tingled in his system, the formerly painful wind caressed his wings and frame, the rain turned into a myriad of tiny pinpricks of sensation on his sensor net, emphasized by the slightly harder touch of the hail, the coldness of the atmosphere above him and the wonderful warmth beneath him and the water inside his plating conducted all the energy of the lightning just so wonderfully and again the white, hot, crackling light blinding all his sensors with sweet oblivion and ohhhhhh….

* * *

Megatron actually looked at Soundwave for an explanation when his SIC, instead of reporting in from his mission, ran past him with a speed Megatron hadn't thought possible shouting "No time! Report later!"  
Starscream vanished down the hallways of the Nemesis, all hyper and grinning and obviously in quite a hurry to get to his personal quarters for some alone time, if his energy field was anything to go by.

Soundwave only blinked behind his visor, replayed the whole scene, saving it to his memory banks – then he shrugged….

_

* * *

_

Every time I read a Transformer story in which some mech or the other is hit by a flash of lightning, it injures them or something like this.  
I changed this concept, obviously.

_The Cybertronians actually live on energy and lightning is just that, pure energy.  
It would make no sense if their systems could convert all kinds of fuel into some sort of Energon, but raw Energy would injure them._

_On the other hand, in all their millennia as living, fighting and highly conductive robots, they should have found a way to ensure that they don't short a fuse or something like that when struck by lightning._

nana nana nanaaanaaa: _A sound made by children living in my part of the world when having something the other has not and wants. A sign of pure schadenfreude. I don't know, if this sound exit in English, if not, please tell me and I will simply erase it._


	25. Special 4: Wild Card

_Disclaimer: I own nothing – at least nothing Transformers related._

_AN: For Dvana who wanted to see Armada Starscream meeting his G1 counterpart.  
At first I didn't want to do it, I don't like Armada very much, but then a certain idea hit me (I think there was something on the bunny farm that spawned it) and here your wish is fulfilled. Sort of._

_Thanks to mdnytryder for correcting this chapter. _

_Warning! __Too many Starscreams. Oy!!!_

**

* * *

**

Special Four: Wild Card (Armada AU)

Each story has its villain.  
In this story, the villain's name was Unicron, and said Unicron was about to awaken.

And Starscream was the only one who was aware of it.

* * *

The red Seeker lay on his berth, staring up at the metallic ceiling high above his head and pondered his possibilities.  
Beside him, his Minicon Swindle recharged peacefully, as yet unaware of his dark Creator slowly, but undoubtedly, gaining consciousness.

Starscream was sure that, if awakened, Unicron would call his children to his shell to do his bidding, but right now every little Minicon on Earth or the moon was still oblivious to their heritage and dark future.

And it was up to Starscream to change that.

Or not.

He sighed and sat up, looking at the walls of his quarters without really seeing anything.  
The Seeker had four general options:

#1. Tell the Autobots and Decepticons about the threat concerning Cybertron.  
_(He could already hear the declarations of disbelief and hysterical shouts of "We're all going to die!", "The end is here!", "Where is Bruce Willis when you need him!" or " I'm too young to die!")_

#2. Not tell them, resulting in carnage, bloodshed and general destruction of the universe.  
_(He would have to move then, frag….)_

#3. Stay and watch to see if they found out by themselves that Cybertron's beloved moon was the bringer of chaos, the Unmaker himself.  
_(Again the hysterical shouts, hooray….)_

#4. Fly away and don't look back.  
_(This option was appealing – but then again, he was too curious to miss out on something like Unicron awaking and devouring his older brother, plus any of his kids that were too dumb to stay in the vicinity.)_

He really didn't know which option to chose.

* * *

Starscream sighed again, tracing circles on the metal of his berth.

Even if he decided to help the Cybertronians discover their "little" problem, there was still the dilemma about disclosing how he had acquired his information.

_(Somehow he doubted that it would go over very well if he said something along the lines of "Hey, I'm sure you know the story? The one about 'Before the beginning was nothing, nothing was a paradox, which then imploded and the resulting mess spawned Primus and Unicron?' Surprise! It didn't spawn only two beings but three and I just coincidentally happen to be this third god doing my good deed for the century.")_

_(Too many questions attached.)_

After all, his lovely big brothers had erased him, Atropan, their darling little, annoyingly weak and unimportant brother, out of all the history books and religious texts.

Unicron was at least mentioned with fear as the great Unmaker and the beginning of all evil in the universe.  
But Atropan, poor little thing that he was, sized like a regular Cybertronian, without any obvious, light effect creating, bombastic powers, was entirely unknown to any mortal creature in the universe.

Starscream noted that now he was pouting slightly, old wounds reopening again.

He didn't deserve to be forgotten.

After all, he had done so much for and against his brothers' children.

But no, the only ones mentioned again and again were Primus, the slagging merciful,

_(Wake up, he was a jerk!  
If he wasn't, then why didn't he do something about this fragging war amongst his children?_

_(Atropan was sure the gigantic idiot probably even enjoyed all the fighting and thought of it as his own personal strategic game.  
The setting fit perfectly. _

_(Two factions, one goal – simple enough for the blockhead to understand.)_

and the great Unmaker, the faceless monster lurking under the berths of little Sparklings.

_(He was an even bigger jerk.  
But that was about it, his processing power wouldn't be enough to light a human light bulb.  
To Unicron, it was all about eating and pissing Primus off, nothing else.)_

But, who had been the one to whom Primus came crawling when his first Creations turned out to be nothing other than remote-controlled drones?

And who had been the one that solved his big and mighty brother's problem with introducing a little thing called "Coincidence" to his Spark so that each time that it split and created his children's life essences, chance decided what abilities and personal traits the new Spark would possess?

_(More importantly, who was the poor fellow that had ended up with babysitting duty after Primus had created not one, not two, but actually thirteen little bundles of joy and screechy voices when he actually got the hang of Spark splitting?  
Poor "Daddy" was exhausted after all and needed his beauty sleep, so Atropan had ended up with his arms full of whiny little Sparklings - with the same demanding and ungrateful personality like "Dad" - that he had to guide through Sparklinghood, Younglinghood and their first steps as adults, until Primus finally decided they were mature enough to do his bidding and to fulfill the roles he envisioned for them. _

_(And to create more spawn – guess who had to babysit them.  
Here's a hint: It started with a capital "A"._

_(And he still hadn't gotten even a "Thank You" card from any of them. Slaggers!)_

The list continued on from there.

Who had helped Unicron to lead the Fallen astray when his dark brother discovered Primus' little darlings?

_(Atropan had been rather pissed off at every living Spark on and in Cybertron at the time.  
After all, when he had appeared on the planet after a long vacation after taking care of his brother's pit spawn, nobody knew him anymore.  
Even Prima had only glanced at him, lifted an optic ridge in the arrogant way Atropan was sure he hadn't taught him, and ordered his guards to kick him out of his throne room.)_

Who had created the fire dimension after Primus came begging and pleading to him, belly crawling and honeycoating his words, not knowing what to do with his rebellious thirteenth child?  
(_The slime that Primus had created with all his brownnosing that day had been enough to create a whole new species out of it._ _Where do you think came the Qunitessons from?)_

Who had taught Unicron to clone his own spawn out of his innards and organic waste that the metallic planet had left over from his last meal?  
_(And who had been stuck with babysitting duty – again?)_

Who had found the survivors of Planet X and convinced them to serve Unicron in exchange for revenge on the destroyers of their planet?

Who had done this, done that, and gained no credit or recognition whatsoever for it?

* * *

Atropan glared at the walls of his quarters, creating two little forms shaped like his brothers from the metallic surface, only to melt them into tiny chunks again.

It felt good, but he wished he was powerful enough to do the real thing.

Or, at least to be acknowledged as more than the ultimate babysitter of the multi-verse and the occasional errand boy.

"You know, if you're so peeved at them, then I don't understand why you're still pondering whether to tell their children about Unicron or not? You should use the situation to get rid of Primus, Unicron and their Creations once and for all."

Atropan looked up from the still smoldering chunks of metal and at the wall.

A face had appeared on the reflective surface, a smirk on dark lips, red-hot optics following Atropan's every move, optic ridges questionably lifted.

The peanut gallery had arrived.

* * *

That always happened whenever Atropan had a difficult decision to make.

Somehow, his incarnations in other dimensions appeared out of nowhere to represent his different opinions, motives and parts of his personality.

Strangely enough, Atropan was not only aware of what happened in each of these different dimensions and universes – he _was_ every single one of these incarnations, living their lives, making their decisions, all at the same time.

He was Starscream, sitting in his quarters and pondering about the injustice of his existence, but at the same time, he was Starscream, lying on his berth in the Nemesis and smirking at his other incarnation's problem – and Starscream, flying through space after his Lord had died on a strange planet, taking the Allspark with him, or Starscream in a conversation with said Lord about how to stop the evil Autobots from destroying the Earth in their search for Energon, or Starscream, twirling stasis cuffs around his fingers and bored enough to give his own two cents to this conversation, or Starscream….

_(You get it. If not, it's nothing to worry about. Even he went cross-eyed when thinking too much about it, and he was living it.)_

* * *

"What do you mean?"  
Even when they were still one and the same, they had agreed on using "You" instead of "We".  
It made things easier – and less confusing.

_(Ever had the mother of all headaches? Pfft, lucky loser, try the GOD of all headaches! THAT was pain in its finest!)_

The dark-faced Starscream's smile widened, "You know Unicron, you have been in him. You should use your knowledge to somehow prepare Primus' body to kill him. Poison, spikes, bombs, whatever you think would work.  
Primus won't stop you, the lazy aft is sleeping after all.  
And when both of your dear brothers are gone, you wait until the last Cybertronians have killed each other, then you find yourself a nice planet, create your own species and live happily ever after."

Atropan frowned, "I can't deny that it sounds appealing."

To have his own people, to be loved and worshipped….

* * *

Atropan had often thought about this prospect, but until now, he had always dismissed the idea as an impossible dream.

He was not planet sized, like his brothers.  
As their Creator, Atropan would have to find a place for his Creations to live, he would have to defend them against his brothers and their spawn, and to care for them in a way that, right now, his weak powers simply couldn't accomplish.

Sure, he could always ask Primus if he would allow them to live on his surface.  
After all, his eldest brother owed him a lot....

But, Primus certainly would either convert them slowly into his own good, little Cybertronians, or he would make sure that nobody on Cybertron would ever forget that they weren't Primus' own children, but strangers, outcasts.  
Children of a god who couldn't even provide them with their basic needs.

Atropan did not want this life for his children.

Not a life so similar to his own.

* * *

Getting rid of his brothers and then starting anew was tempting but….

"I don't know,what would happen if I really would kill either of them. Even they don't know, regardless of how many great speeches they delivered on the topic.  
The multi-verse could simply cease to exist and we would be back to step one.  
Nothing, collapsing, gods…."

Atropan shrugged.

The Starscream in the reflection snorted, "You have no idea how many scientific theories there are about such an ending to the universe, have you?

"I swear, every second theory is about the end of the universe simply starting it anew, creating the Big Bang, because time is a big circle, yadda, yadda, yadda….  
Idiots, all of them.  
Until I've seen it, I refuse to believe this slag.  
Just do what I told you and all will end well. We will be finally respected and worshipped and our two big problems will never be an issue again."

Suddenly the red optics narrowed, then the dark-faced Starscream sighed, "Oh please…. Not again. It isn't about the end of the multi-verse, is it?  
It's just about your honor again.  
Your pride doesn't allow you to get rid of the two biggest problems in the universe, just because it could be wrong to kill a sleeping and defenseless opponent.  
Oh Primus, just what should I do with you…?  
- Sorry, force of habit."

Another snort, from the ceiling this time.

"At least some of us know what's right and what not. Your line between black and white seems to have become quite blurred over time, Screamer."

Screamer looked up, his dark face scrunching up in a grimace, "Great… it's the Autocon saint… Comm me if you need me, my audials are officially off, now."

Atropan looked up also, coming face to face with blue optics and a scowl projected in Screamer's direction.

White lips curled, then the new guest murmured, "Afthead."

"I heard that!"

Blue optics blinked innocently, but the lips on the porcelain white faceplate smirked in a superior way, "But I thought you said you would switch your audios off…. Did you lie again, Screamer?"

Red optics glared up at the white-faced Starscream, "I'm a Decepticon, that's what I do!"

Blue optics narrowed, "I'm a Decepticon, too, and that's what I do _not_ do."

Screamer wanted to reply, but Atropan was faster, "Silence! If you want to fight so badly, do it on your own free time! I have other things to worry about other than playing your referee - again!"

Dark Starscream snorted, but white Starscream looked apologetic, "I'm sorry. It was just a hard day, that's all. It won't happen again."

Screamer snorted again, "Tonight, when we're off shift?"

A fierce light began to gleam in blue optics, "You can count on it, loser!"

Atropan just groaned.

"Anyway, when you make your decision, you have to think about the lives that will be lost when Unicron gains free reign of the universe. Not only the Cybertronians will perish, but the humans also, and any other species on planets Unicron will destroy."

The white-faced Starscream cocked his head and pouted slightly at his red counterpart sitting on the berth, "What about Alexis and their friends? And the Autobots here on Earth, who took you in when you were injured and with nowhere left to go?"

"Oh, please…. You whine about me but you#re just as manipulating. Hypocrite!"

"At least I do it for a good cause, not for my own personal gain."

* * *

Atropan just groaned while his two incarnations began to bicker again.

He looked at Swindle to check if the Minicon still slept on, despite the increasing sound level.  
The little mech was out like a light.

"He won't wake up, you know that. Nobody ever notices us arguing," remarked another incarnation absentmindedly from his place on the shiny surface of the berth.

This Starscream looked regal in appearance, mostly silver with strange broad wings, shaped more like batwings than jetwings.  
Golden markings showed on his face, creating strange, ever changing patterns around his silvery optics.

He was Atropan in his first form, concentrated on writing on a datapad in his lap, while in the background, Sparklings could be heard, laughing, howling, screaming and fighting over something or other.

Atropan waited for a while, then it became apparent that the Ancient had nothing else to say.  
He ignored everything other than his datapad.

The red Seeker on the berth sighed, "Still writing on the Covenant?"

The Ancient hummed absently.

"You are aware that Primus will steal it the moment you're finished?"

A golden optic ridge twitched. "Don't remind me," came the icy reply. "I'm still hoping that in this universe he won't."

A particularly loud cry was heard, followed by weeping, and every incarnation in the room winced.

The Ancient's optic ridge twitched again and he suddenly turned around to the Sparklings off-screen… err, -berth, "Slag it, Prima! Stop terrorizing your brother! He's the youngest, you should be nice to him, not torment him!  
Don't even look at me with those big optics!  
I'm not your Creator, and unlike him, I won't play favorites and won't refrain from calling you the most spoiled child that will ever exist in any universe!  
And now be a good little tyrant and go order your toy soldiers around again!  
And no, Vector, I won't show you how to use your time travel powers.  
It's bad enough your Creator cheated me into gifting you with them when I was drunk, I won't help you by making them work in addition! The last thing I need is an arrogant Sparkling with a stick-up-his-aft attitude thinking he can rule time and space."

The Ancient turned around again, picked up his datapad, still mumbling angrily, "To remove time anomalies my aft. Slagging Primus, you old liar…."

* * *

"I'm so glad I'm past that stage," muttered Screamer from his wall.

"Me two!"

"Me three!"

"Me four!" a birdlike face appeared on the foor, eying the Ancient warily.  
His design differed greatly from the other incarnations, his paintjob a dull but functional brownish grey.

"But, to return to the original topic, I think Autocon is right. As much as we all loathe Primus, he is the home of the Cybertronians and those are the species most similar to you.  
If they die, then we will be truly alone again, not just alone in a crowd. Do you really want that?"

Red optics held the gaze of Atropan's golden ones, then the hawkish-looking mech continued.

"And even if Primus just sees this war as a kind of game, we are not him!  
If we manage to get the two factions to unite against Unicron and to forget their differences, we can win against both of our brothers at once.  
We would end Primus' little episode of "Capture the flags" and keep Unicron from filling his stomach. He's too fat anyway."

* * *

Somehow, Atropan liked this particular incarnation of himself.

He could be misguided at times, but he at least tried to remain practical.  
His goals were mostly noble, only his ways were unacceptable at times.

The hawkish Starscream reminded him of himself.  
Perhaps he should do as he suggested.

* * *

"Sounds nice enough, but you should check out all your options first." Atropan decided his room was getting quite crowded.  
Another wall was now occupied by a long, purple face, smirking down at him.

"You know, our small problem of finding a suitable planet for our future worshipers could be solved if you asked Unicron to play the planet for them.  
You could promise to keep your mouth shut and to help Sideways in reaching his goal and for this little favor he will be a home for our children.  
Just imagine, a species of warriors, accustomed to carnage and destruction. They could raid each planet that Unicron targets beforehand, strip it of its resources…."

The optics of this incarnation began to gleam as he began a rant of his glorious new species, finding an attentive audience in Screamer and slight interest from the hawkish Starscream.  
Autocon just seemed disgusted and disappeared.

* * *

Atropan began to ignore his other parts, knowing that they would disappear before daybreak.  
He had made his decision, a decision which he hopefully could live with in the future.

It was time to make use of his rather rusty talents of time traveling....

The god couldn't help but grin and shake his head, hearing the others argue in the background about proper rites to his honor.

Why was it that the only universe where anyone was ready to accept, respect and worship him was the one universe, in which he, for all his worshipers knew, didn't even exist - except as a character in a fictional story…?

_**

* * *

**_

**Atropan:**

_A slightly changed form of Atropos, which means "The Inevitable" and is the name of a Greek goddess of fate.  
Atropos has a role closely linked to death in the Greek mythology, but Atropan here is more like a trickster, neither good nor bad, the one in between. He's still inevitable, because without him there would be no movement or change, he is the one that sets things into motion, if he wants (or realize it) or not._

_He is all and nothing, having a hand in everything but nothing to really claim as his own._

_A poor fellow and yet the most important part of the multi-verse._

_I thought the name fit to the "First" (Primus) and the "Unique" (my personal translation of Unicron)._

_End credits:  
Atropan - Armada Starscream  
Screamer - G1 Starscream  
Autocon - Shattered Glass Starscream  
The Ancient - The first form of Atropan on babysitting duty, writing what would be later known as the "Covenant of Primus" (Yes, he can see the future. Or, to be correct, he's living it.)  
The Hawk - Movie Starscream  
The One with The Plan (and the long chin) - Animated Starscream_


	26. II Jealous

_Disclaimer: I own nothing – at least nothing Transformers related nor the lyrics I used._

_AN: This chapter was hard. I lost the plot sometime in the past and so the first version was a complete disaster. Thanks to my beta mdnytryder who kind of forced me to actually think about what I wanted to tell you with this chapter, I managed a new version which I think is much better.  
I apologize for the Coneheads. They already tried to do something similar in "Naughty" but there I could prevent it._

_Thanks to mdnytryder for correcting this chapter and kicking me in the right direction. _

**

* * *

**

22/28 Jealous II (G1 AU, pre Earth, beginning of the war, follows Naive)

_And I wonder if you know  
How it really feels  
To be left outside alone  
When it's cold out here  
Well maybe you should know  
Just how it feels  
To be left outside alone  
To be left outside alone_

_~ Left Outside Alone by Anastacia ~_

The first sign of what was about to come was a faint rumble in the distance.

It began as a soft purr, a slight vibration felt in the inner depths of one's systems.

The mechs and femmes on the plaza tensed slightly, some looking up at the deep blue sky, sprinkled with stars and far away nebula.

Nothing out of the ordinary could be seen, but the sound grew louder and louder in not time, as more and more heads turned to watch the wide space above them.

A quick glint in the distance, almost too short to be noticed, a sudden flash of vibrant color in front of the eternal dark of the universe – and then, there they were.

Seekers, dozens of them, all sleek beauty, deadly grace and proud wings, all shining brilliantly in colorful hues reflected from the pale glow of the stars.

The crowd cheered when they shot overhead, leaving streaks of vapor in their wakes.  
The Seekers continued until they reached the high towers circling the plaza, then turned as one, forming a large, ever-moving circle.

Other Seekers rose from the ground to meet them, moving in the opposite direction and encircling the original group, giving them just enough room to execute their complicated aerial maneuvers, yet still trapping them in a specific area, forcing them to do their aerobatics correctly or risk crashing into one of the surrounding jets.

They didn't crash and the crowd howled its approval into the wide Cybertronian sky.

The first group of Seekers ended their performance flawlessly, only to gather in the middle of the airspace and shoot back up into the dark sky, like meteors falling into space, their bright colors painting glittering streaks into the air that seemed to stay in more than one mech's processor as an afterimage of beauty shaped into a physical form.

They shot up and up, reaching the invisible line between the atmosphere of Cybertron and of space, only to cut their engines and to let themselves fall, tumbling and rolling faster and faster.

The crowd silenced, anxiously waiting for what was about to happen.

The jets caught their falls just meters above the heads of their spectators, engines roaring to life and sending them back up into the sky to form a giant sphere of flitting, colorful shapes.

No wing clipped another, no belly scraped against a cockpit, no one crashed.  
They danced in the skies like they had done this complicated pattern all their lives and knew nothing else, completely at ease and unconcerned of the gruesome death that one wrong wriggle with an aileron or wing flap could lead to.

The crowd went wild.

The mechs and femmes left on the ground howled and cheered, roared and waved, screaming their praise for all of Cybertron to hear.

They marveled at the display they had just witnessd and straightened in pride, because these wonderful, beautiful creatures were theirs, their comrades, their Seekers, their way to win the war and to defeat the Autobots once and for all.

Prime would never know what hit him when the new aerial fleet of the Decepticons swooped down upon his mechs for the first time, unleashing a storm of laserfire and cluster bombs upon them.

The victory was theirs, and every single Decepticon in front of the Decepticon War Academy knew it.

* * *

Megatron smiled in satisfaction.

He stood on the highest step of the wide stairs that led to the entrance of the Academy and watched his Seekers being celebrated by his troops.

The silver mech's smile only widened when his newest aerial warriors finally broke formation and landed.  
Their older Seeker comrades immediately abandoned their tight circle formation andfollowed them to the surface to join their respective favorites among the cadets, family members or trine mates.

Congratulations were passed, praise was given and tales of the bright future that was about to come to pass were told.

The gunformer's optics automatically searched for the red and white paint job of the Seeker cadet he had selected to become his next Air Commander, should the mech who currently held this position die. And Megatron anxiously waited every day for the news of his Air Commander's death.

The mech was completely incapable of leading or coordinating a battle, but had been the first Seeker to follow the Decepticon cause.  
This practically forced Megatron to award him a high-ranking position as a sign for the other Seekers. Loyalty would be rewarded.

He found his protégé amidst a group of other Seekers, which included his trine mates, some of his classmates and older Seekers who were either congratulating him or sucking up to him, as if they were aware of his future position in the Decepticon army.

* * *

Starscream smiled, even if it looked just the tiniest bit strained, while his trine mates ever so slowly edged away from the crowd and chattered between themselves.

Well, Megatron mused, after some vorns Starscream would learn to fake his smile flawlessly and his trine would learn the patience and discipline a command trine needed.

Starscream smiled.

He smiled at the mechs and femmes offering congratulations for his and his classmate's perfect performance, and at the admirers babbling and stuttering their praise.

He was polite to the Decepticons trying to flatter him into their berth or to those who offered favors of any kind for a better position in anticipation of Starscream's leadership potential.

He took each sickly-sweet comment his enemies and competitors offered in stride, didn't rise to any bait thrown his way and ignored the thinly veiled threats and jealous belittling of his own performance.

Why should he care what any of those mechs or femmes said or thought?

They weren't important.

Nobody on this plaza was really important, at least, not to him.

To him, the only mechs whose opinion counted were Megatron and….

Well, only Megatron's opinion counted.

The others could all jump into the pit, for all he cared.

"Well done, _Screamer_. Even if it did look like you were going to crash at one point. And you almost clipped my wing while forming the sphere," said one of his classmates, smirking and leaning on his dark blue and black trine mate.

"Yeah, Thrust is right, you were rather wobbly on your wings. Something wrong, Screamer?" the second member of the trine asked, in a mockingly concerned tone of voice.

The third Conehead, the dark blue one, gave Starscream a once-over, revved his engine in a strangely unnerving way and grinned slowly, his optics darkening some shades, "I think he looks fine…."

His trine mates caught on to the new game, and the way Dirge's special ability caused Starscream to tense slightly.  
Thrust let go of his wingmate and draped himself over the red, white and blue Seeker instead, waggling a finger at his fellow Coneheads, "Now, now, Dirge. Don't scare the poor mech away."

The maroon Conehead leaned heavily on Starscream and began to nuzzle his cheek, "But you're right, he is pretty. He looks almost like a femme, with the paint job and all that."

Ramjet leaned into Starscream from the other side, slinging his arm around the tri-colored jet's waist, holding him tight and smirking down at him, "Let's check it out."

He began to finger Starscream's waist and hip, leering down at his victim, "What do you think, Screamer. Wouldn't you like a quick romp in our berth?"  
"Or two, or three," suggested Thrust from Starscream's other side, now pressed flush against the slightly smaller Seeker.

"We could show you that there's more to life than your geekyness and sucking up to Lord Megatron," continued Ramjet, unperturbed by Thrust's interruption.

Suddenly he frowned, then chuckled lecherously, "Or did Lord Megatron claim you for himself?"

Thrust made an odd sound, a mixture between a laugh and a questioning, slightly worried whine.

Starscream balled his hands to fists and hissed, "Release me! This! Instant!"

A dark, lazy smile began to form on Dirge's face, and he stepped closer, looming over Starscream, wings hiked high, his engine sending deep, frightening vibrations through everything in the vicinity , "And what, if not…?"

"Let him go, Dirge!" demanded a new voice.

The jet turned around and looked at the neon green Seeker standing behind him, arms crossed, wings high, his face clearly showing his irritation.  
At his side stood his wing mates, equally annoyed at the Coneheads' antics and ready to take them on, if needed.

Acidstorm huffed, "Honestly, today is our graduation day! Can't you just for once not be total aftheads? Or at least, I don't know, try?"

The Coneheads glowered at the Rainmakers, more than ready to pick a fight… but Acidstorm was right, it was graduation day and if they fought now, chances were good that the Supreme Commander himself would notice and terminate them all for disrupting the celebration.  
Or at least punish the Coneheads severely for annoying his current favorite.

Dirge flicked his wings and Thrust and Ramjet let go of Starscream, the white Conehead giving the Seeker a parting shove. "See you later, Screamer."

"Yeah, see you. Don't try to miss us too much."

Acidstorm watched the Conheads until they disappeared in the crowd, then his wings sagged and he turned back to Starscream.  
He sighed, "Don't let them get to you, Starscream. They are just jealous of your good grades and the attention you've earned throughout the course of the Academy. Nothing to be concerned about."

Starscream nodded absentmindedly, staring after the Coneheads.

Acidstorm looked at him, worried, then he frowned suddenly, "Where are your trine mates? It should be their job to look after you and to back you up, not ours."

Starscream barely suppressed a flinch and answered as casually as he could manage, "We were celebrating last night. Skywarp drank too much and woke up with the worst hangover of his life. Fortunately he managed to fly, but now he feels ill and has gone to lie down before he throws up in front of the whole Decepticon army. TC is looking after him."

"Ah, I understand." It would be typical for Skywarp to drink too much Highgrade right before one of the most important days of his life.

"Well, I don't think they will try anything else today. Dirge is too clever to take the risk. You should stay a little bit longer, than you can go look after Skywarp." Acidstorm smiled and turned to leave. "It was a honor and a pleasure to fly with you, Starscream. Pleasant winds for you."

"You too, 'Storm."

* * *

Starscream watched them leave, no Rainmaker ever straying too far from the others, always staying close and moving as a trine, even when on the ground.

They passed the Coneheads on the way, Ramjet sneering at them but not doing anything.

Starscream folded his arms in front of his chest and shifted his focus from the Rainmakers to the Coneheads.

They were only jealous, huh?

He wondered what Acidstorm would think of him, if he ever admitted that _he _was jealous of the _Coneheads_.  
He would probably laugh and not believe him.

But then again, Starscream would never dare to tell him.

Because Acidstorm would want an explanation and Starscream simply could not comply.

There was no way he would tell him that Skywarp, Thundercracker and he were not real wingmates, but a broken trine, a two plus one in Seeker terms.  
And he would never tell anybody that he was the single flyer, the Seeker that did not manage to bond to his other two wingmates.

Thundercracker and Skywarp had a trinebond, a very strong one that was compensating for the lack of a third member in their trine.

But Starscream… he was alone, regardless what he did or tried.

At this point in time, Warp and TC were too ashamed to tell anybody about their broken trine status, but their "trine leader" was dreading the day their shame would fade and they would disclose the secret.  
How could he become Air Commander if he had no trine?

And how would Megatron react if he discovered that his favorite Seeker was… imperfect down to his very core?

Starscream had thought long and hard about his circumstances ever since the day he had finally given up trying to form a trine bond with the other two Seekers.  
Telling someone could be a chance to find another trine, a real trine, wing mates who would accept him and form a true trine bond with him.

But at the same time, it could be his death sentence.

What if they discovered that something was wrong with him?  
That he was glitched, or worse, that there was something wrong with his Spark?

After all, he had never been able to form a bond with his Creator either, and the mech had told him often enough that he was defective.

Perhaps his faulty vocalizer was just part of a much greater problem deep within him?

He wanted trine mates, somebody who liked and cared for him – but it was just too dangerous to let anybody in on the secret.

Until know, his and his wing mates' skills had been enough to fool everyone into believing that they were a fully functional trine.  
He would have to convince Warp and TC to continue the charade up.

It just had to work.

* * *

Starscream sighed again and continued to watch the Coneheads shoving each other, laughing amongst themselves at their rough actions and showing clear affection in their optics.

What wouldn't he give to trade his life with any of theirs….


	27. Excited

_Disclaimer: I own nothing – at least nothing Transformers related._

_AN: Just something short and pointless._

_Thanks to mdnytryder. _

**

* * *

**

23/28 Excited (G1)

The canyon was almost too narrow for the sleek jet that shot between the walls.

The wingtips threatened to scrape over the stone at each curve, but each time Starscream barely avoided ending up as a big pile of spare parts on the faraway ground of the gorge.

One wrong move, one moment of fading concentration and he would be sent spinning only to crash and burn.

Starscream felt the pressure in his valves rising and his fans come online with a faint click.  
The thrill this test of his skills created deep within his Spark was incredible and overwhelming to his entire being.

He barrel rolled to avoid becoming a smear on the wall, shot through a arc formed of stone, changed altitude just for a split second to avoid a barrier on his way then – there! A target – fired a single shot and passed by the brilliant explosion, the fire licking at his belly.

He shuddered and couldn't help but grin in glee.

The cables in his body tightened in response to the challenge the new section of the course promised to be, his pump sped up, preparing for even more split second twists and turns, and he opened his targeting screen – only to close it again.  
He wouldn't need it.

He would do this entirely on his own.

Starscream wasn't sure, but he thought he could hear his wing mates cheer in the background.

He dipped low, spotted the next target and shot.  
Once again he caused a wonderful explosion that caressed the frame of the jet as it flew through.

The Spark in Starscream's chest jumped _almost_ painfully, urging him to go faster, to take the curves even more daringly, to go on and on and on and on….

The jet was only too happy to oblige, increasing his speed and leaving proud vapor trails behind him.

There, the next target!

Starscream aligned his shot, aimed carefully, vented a deep gust of air and –

"STARSCREAM!!! WHERE ARE YOU, YOU -"

The Seeker yelped and lost his grip on the controller in shock. He tried to catch the piece of machinery, only succeeding in throwing it into the air several times, until the controller finally slipped through his grasping fingers and landed with a dull sound on the ground.

The jet on the giant screen in front of Starscream made a spectacular loop and crashed against the canyon wall in a brilliant fireball.  
Then the screen darkened and giant letters stating **"GAME OVER"** appeared.

The other jetformers behind Starscream, until seconds before the only other occupants of the rec room, groaned and whined in disappointment.

"Oh no, that's not fair!"

"Aw, that sucks Screamer, you've almost beaten your own high score."

"That's really bad timing…."

Starscream stared at the screen, a faint whine leaving his vocalizer.

18 levels – and Megatron had destroyed all his achievements in mere seconds.

He turned to face the doorway, pouting at his Supreme Commander, who stood there shocked speechless and having trouble believing what he had just witnessed.

Megatron made a noise similar to clearing his throat, then gestured for his Air Commander to follow him, ignoring the heated glares he got from the Seekers and Coneheads.  
They seemed to be ready to murder him.

He made a note to himself to never again disturb a flying Seeker, and that "flying" was a very loosely defined term.

After their superiors had left the room, the remaining jets continued to stare sulkily at the screen that showed bright flashing colors and the images of flying jets, still lamenting the lost opportunity of a new high score.

Megatron's voice floated back to them, the sound bouncing of the metal walls of the corridors and finding its way to the rec room, "I really hope this isn't the reason they call you the fastest jet alive."


	28. Drinking Energon

_Disclaimer: I own nothing – at least nothing Transformers related._

_AN: Crack. Bonding time of the head honchos._

_Thanks to mdnytryder for correcting and betaing._

**

* * *

**

24/28 Drinking Energon (G1)

"I don't understand it.  
Seriously, I try to be nice, to keep them safe, to keep them from dying because of Megatron's stupid plans…. I mean, I only want an itty, bitty amount of respect, no parties and celebra… cebra... celler... whatever to my honor.  
Is that too much to ask? I mean, don't they love me?  
At least a little bit?

"You understand what I mean, don't you? I mean, you're such an ugly, unimaginative little yes-man, you have to know what it feels like to be hated….  
I understand how you feel, seriously I do.

"I love you, mech. You know? My only friend on the whole world….  
I mean, it's not as if I would hate them. Really, if I could I would just say, 'Yes, go on, destroy the base!', 'Kill Rumble, go on, good riddance. Have fun.', 'Keep doing that, Megsy will just love it if his computer system mutates into a new sentient species with all the viruses you're uploading right now.'

"I mean, I'm surrounded by incompetence and Megatron awaits some sort of miracle that will strike the Prime down and convert the other do-gooders to our cause and it really wasn't my fault the store room blow up, I told Skywarp to get rid of his firecrackers but I didn't think he would put them there….

"I hate my life! Nobody loves me. You know, sometimes I lie awake at night and I ask, 'Where have I gone wrong?' And then a voice says to me – "

"I hope you've got a lot of time. This may take a while."

Starscream peered up at his Supreme Commander from his place slouched over the table, his head resting in a puddle of Energon, optics only half lit and dazed.  
He sobbed, then he tried to grab Megatron's leg to give it a hug. "Exactly…. You understand me, my only friend…. Have I ever told you how much I love you? They are all incompetent and I love you…."

Megatron grimaced down at his wasted SIC, torn between blowing him up and going away and pretending this had never happened.

The Seeker sat at the table, trying to lick at the puddle of glowing Highgrade right in front of his nose without moving his head.  
On the other side of the table that was littered with empty cubes, sat Soundwave, ramrod straight but faintly swaying to and fro, his Creations standing beside his chair and watching him warily and not a little bit concerned. His visor flashed from time to time, but apart from that he was silent and unmoving, staring into space.

"I'm surrounded by incompetence…" murmured Megatron and sighed.  
His officers drunk out of their processors, sitting in the rec room for all to see….

Granted, most of the troops were currently in the brig because of infighting, general mischief, prank wars, insubordination, sheer stupidity and so on.  
So the only ones left to see the outrageous behavior of his officers were Soundwave's Creations.  
But still….

Something nudged his leg and he looked down to see Starscream shoving a full cube his way. "We all are, learn to deal with it or join the pity party…. We have cookies, I think." The Seeker frowned, then proceeded to try to lick at the Energon surrounding him. When he actually managed to snatch a little bit with his tongue, he sighed in bliss and nuzzled the tabletop.

Megatron sighed again, then he realized he had nothing to lose and sat down, suddenly finding himself with a lap of extremely clingy Seeker ready to go into recharge then and there. The warlord downed his cube, ignored Starscream's attempts at getting comfortable and trying to tip the table a bit so that the Highgrade on it would dribble down to him, and leaned back in his chair.  
It had been far too long since he had some peace and quiet to himself and nobody would ever be the wiser….

While Megatron filled himself a new cube, petting the snoring Starscream's head with his free hand, Soundwave swayed one last time, hiccupped and fell to the side, right on his yelping children.

Surrounded by incompetence, indeed….

* * *

_The last sentence of Starscream's rant was adopted from the bunny farm and belongs to leilani666. _

http: // community. Livejounal. Com / tf_bunny_farm / 181400. Html ? #cutid1


	29. III Transforming

_Disclaimer: I own nothing – at least nothing Transformers related._

_Thanks to mdnytryder for correcting and betaing.  
_

**

* * *

**

25/28 III Transforming (G1 AU, post-war)

_Wake up, wake up:  
__There's an angel in the snow.  
__Look up, look up:  
__It's a frightened dead boy,  
__With so much hate, such bad dreams.  
__He could have seen…  
~Boy and the Ghost by Tarja~  
_

Starscream stared into the familiar faceplates right across from his own, so close that the air from his vents would have caressed the dark plating - if he had still been alive.

The ghost was huddled close to the other winged frame, almost close enough to touch but not quite close enough, still hesitating. He just lay there, watching, searching the empty face in front of him, and tracing the familiar features with his optics over and over again.

So close and yet so far….  


* * *

It was strange to be dead.

To be a ghost.

To exist but not live – but then again, had he ever really lived before?

He wasn't quite sure.

* * *

  
Starscream hesitated, then he slowly extended his hand, concentrated on giving his limb some corporeality, and began to carefully caress the faceplates with his fingertips.  
He traced the familiar features, followed the lines on the other's cheeks, and stroked the unmoving brows….

Starscream felt nothing, but he refused to give up. He had nothing left to lose, so why not cling to this latest desperate hope?

* * *

No longer bound to time and space, he had tried to use this opportunity to his advantage.

He had traveled back in time, over and over again, to comfort the lonely Sparkling in his harsh, cold world, to lead the running Youngling to safety, to keep Skyfire from crashing and taking Starscream's life with him, to find a true friend for the mourning not-yet-adult-not-quite-Youngling sobbing in the outskirts of Kaon, to search for a trine ready to be his family, to keep himself from becoming prey to the master of all manipulators….

The ghost had tried over and over again, whispering, pleading, luring and begging his younger self and all the other mechs around him to not let history repeat itself, to spare him his fate – until he could finally do nothing other than accept that he had no effect on his own destiny and all the other lives entwined with it.

He could just watch everything from the sidelines and suffer while his hopes were crushed again and again until nothing but dust remained of his broken Spark.

He was helpless once again.

Helpless and alone.

* * *

Translucent blue fingers stroked over a wing, rubbing it in a way meant to comfort, while pale cheeks rubbed dark metal, trying to show affection, as Starscream had seen others give and receive.

He let a non-existing engine purr, a desperate, questioning little sound that produced neither vibrations, nor the calming effect he had hoped for.

The ghost opted for embracing the lifeless shell in front of him instead, mumbling little snippets of lullabies and gentle words, everything he had ever wished to hear, rocking it back and fro as much as he was able to.

Everything would be alright, everything was alright and he didn't have to be afraid –

And he just didn't want to be alone anymore….

With a sob Starscream had to release the body in his arms, his concentration wavering in his desperation.

The ghost dove into the white, red and blue Seeker body, so similar to the one he had called his own, and hurried to possess it, to temporarily link his Spark to all the lines and feeds inside the metal shell.

* * *

Unicron had betrayed Starscream when he had gifted him with the body.

The dark god had promised him a new life, but he had just given the hopeful Cybertronian a shell to become temporarily corporal without having to possess another mech.  
He had given Starscream a cruel mockery of life and laughed about the ghost's shock at discovering his treachery.

* * *

The ghost settled into a frame so similar to his lost one and yet not the same and onlined without unshuttering his optics.  
He lay there, unmoving, and waited for the rest of his systems to become "alive".

Finally his nervous grid activated and he sobbed longingly, as he felt the afterimages of his own previous touches on "his" plating, gifting him with a few precious seconds in which he could pretend that he wasn't all alone on a rock somewhere in space, but that there was truly somebody who cared about him and would comfort him.

Starscream felt himself being pulled into a phantom embrace and smiled….

_All he needed was a gentle heart  
__To lead him through the dark when his dreams are running wild.  
__When there's nowhere left to fall,  
__Nowhere to hide.  
__The silence I hurting.  
__Inside it's cold._

_His light went out..._

_~Boy and the Ghost by Tarja~  
_

* * *

_  
AN: I thought it would be better to have a sad chapter between two funnier ones, so I changed the order around. Sorry._


	30. Greedy

_Disclaimer: I own nothing – at least nothing Transformers related._

_**AN:**__ Wow, that went better than expected. I mean, I only had a vague idea what to do but it sort of just flowed out of my fingers.  
The only problem was the start. It's kind of hard writing about Swindle and Greed when the first song playing in your headphones is "If Everyone Cared" by Nickelback. XD_

_Thanks to mdnytryder for correcting and betaing._

**

* * *

**

26/28 Greedy

It was quiet in the Nemesis.

Too quiet.

Swindle frowned and looked over his shoulder, wondering if Soundwave stood around the next corner, waiting for the one wrong thought from the small Combaticon to throw him into the brig for attempted theft.

One could be never too careful with that slagging telepath....  
But then again, it was more likely that Soundwave was lying on his berth at this very moment, moaning in that horrendous monotone of his, while his Creations were scattered over and around his chassis, suffering as well.

Swindle's shoulders sagged in relief.

The whole Decepticon army had been incapacitated for the past two human weeks, every single mech berthridden because of a really tricky virus that the Constructicons just couldn't get a grip on.  
But, from time to time, Swindle would forget that right now, even Megatron and Soundwave were incapable of doing anything but to simply suffer in their quarters, while sneezing gooey Energon and try to cool their overheating systems.

Swindle trotted on, all his worries forgotten.  
His goal was the Energon storage room, a normally tightly secured and guarded part of the ship.  
Swindle's Personal Paradise, he had decided, after visiting it for the first time in his unrestricted, two-week long snoop-fest on his superior officers.

For some reason, not even Hook could fathom why, Swindle seemed to be immune from the virus that was torturing his comrades.

"That's just wonderful," Vortex had commented. "Greedy like a glitch, but the one thing he doesn't want, he isn't getting. It's unfair."  
Then he had curled up under a cooling blanket and sniffled, his rotors just barely poking out.

"Must be the filth he's surrounded himself with for the past vorns," had been Scrapper's dry opinion.  
Onslaught had tried to look insulted on his entire team's behalf, but his optics had started leaking lubricants so badly, that Swindle had to choke back a laugh at the sight.  
The small Combaticon doubted that Scrapper had even noticed, the Constructicon's vision being a little bit blurry, too.

The final result was, however, that Swindle was practically ruler of the base right now.

He could do what he wanted, when he wanted, and nobody was there to stop him – or to even be the wiser.

So Swindle, all business like usual, had decided to "visit" the Energon storage room from time to time to stock up his own reserves.

Sometime in the future, his peers would be healthy, hungry and fun-starved little Decepticons again and then he could provide them with good quality Energon and Highgrade, at a "fair" prize, while the armies' own Energon storage was running low.

But, not too low.

Swindle always was careful not to take too many cubes or Megatron would notice his little escapade and punish him severely – when he could lift his fusion cannon again without falling over.

The jeep snickered and began to fill his subspace with brightly glowing cubes.  
Two cubes to convert into Highgrade, one to be sold as general Energon, one cube for his personal stock, one cube for his team's stock, another two cubes to sell as Highgrade….

One slightly-dimished line of cubes later, Swindle was satisfied and ready to slink back into his quarters to hide his treasure away.

There was one problem, however.

A winged shape lazily leaning in the doorway, a smirk on the dark faceplates that would have made a Cheshire cat proud and red optics dimmed to a falsely innocent hue that just screamed "danger".

Swindle gulped.

The problem with practically being the ruler of the base was the little word "practically".

Because the Combaticon was ruler of the base as long as he managed to conveniently forget that Starscream was healthy as well.

Unlike Swindle, the Constructicons had a fairly good idea why the Screaming One was still as obnoxious as ever.  
As a former explorer and scientist, Starscream's antiviral software was the top notch, and probably developed and upgraded by some of the best processors Cybertron had had to offer, not to mention Starscream himself.

Ever since it had become clear that the SIC showed no sign whatsoever of the cruel virus that had the whole army in its iron grasp, the Constructicons had itched to get a grip on his software.

But, like Megatron and the rest of the army, they were aware that Starscream would rather destroy his antiviral software and succumb to the illness himself than to see his peers getting cured without him having had the time to adequately mock them.

So every Con on the Nemesis just waited patiently until the Seeker became tired of his game called "How can I make fun of the ill sissies today?" and bore his insults and laughter.

Or they would just have to wait until he ran out of materials for his lab and needed a grunt or two to get him some new stuff to play with.

But then again, Starscream wouldn't have been a Con if he wouldn't take advantage of this situation to the fullest.

Ironically, the Autobots had almost the same problem.

They, too, had caught that particular virus, and like the Constructicons, Ratchet had no idea how to cure it yet.  
And they also had one former explorer in their midst, who probably was as immune to the virus as Starscream was.

But, said explorer was on Cybertron right now, his return to Earth via Spacebridge hindered by a sunstorm messing with the controls and coordinating system.

So the Autobots were also stuck in the base, suffering, sniffling and as weak as newborn humans.

It had been a fun scene to watch both sides agree upon a temporary truce until a cure was found.  
Both leaders had sat in front of their respective vidscreens, each one refusing to back down, staring at their rival through blurry, lubricant coated optics, sniffing from time to time. It had gone on for one hour, Starscream all the while sitting in the background, feet propped onto one console and laughing himself silly.

By the end of the hour even Jazz's – amicable, easy-going, ever-smiling JAZZ – look had become rather frosty, his usual grin a little bit weak right now, twitching and threatening to fall right off of his face, his hands curling as if he was about to murder the Seeker.

Finally Megatron had suddenly stood up, groaned "Fragg it all!" and gone to his quarters to nurse his pounding processor, leaving the truce sort of established.

But, back to the present and to Swindle, the sort-of-but-not-quite-temporary-ruler-of-the-Decepticons-if-there-wouldn't-be-Starscream-having-a-blast-because-of-the-whole-situation-and-a-way-too-big-grin-to-be-legally-allowed-on-his-faceplates.

"Well, well, look what I have caught – a little thief," the Seeker purred and, impossible as it may seem, that grin became even wider. "I would call you sneaky, but you all but sauntered into this room, thinking that you could delete the video footage later and all…. Now, what do I do with you?"

The Seeker pondered for a moment, tapping his lips in thought. Swindle relaxed.

If Starscream was, well, not quite playful, there was usually a way out.

"I could comm. Megatron, I'm sure he would just love to deal with a thief and his processor ache at the same time. He would probably decide that one of his problems would have to go forever and I doubt that our illustrious leader would blow his own processor to smithereens, but then again, one never knows…."

"How much do you want, Starscream" asked Swindle, who tired quickly of games where he hadn't made up the rules.

"Fifty-five percent." Suddenly Starscream was all business, posture straight and optics bright.

Swindle gasped, "Do you want to ruin me? I…."

"Sixty percent!" interrupted Starscream, the smirk creeping back on his faceplates.

Swindle opened the mouth, ready to charm Starscream into lowering his prize, after all, it was the Screaming One he was speaking to, one ego stroke here or there should be enough, but –

"Sixty-five percent!"

"You can't do that," whined Swindle, as Starscream mock-pouted at him, pretending to wipe a tear out of the corner of his optic, then preparing to up the stake.

Swindle interrupted him just in time, opening his subspace and flinging Energon cubes into his superior's waiting hands, all the while cursing and spewing insults like a drunken… well, like a drunken Decepticon.

Well, no regular Energon then, and no addition to his team's Energon reserves.  
Their own fault for getting ill and leaving him with no leverage in the form of strong and bulky team members to sic on the Seeker if Starscream got too daring in his demands.

"It's always a pleasure doing business with you," said Starscream in a saccharine-sweet voice, smiling as if an Energon treat wouldn't melt in his mouth.

Swindle flipped him off, then began to trudge back to his quarters to calculate how much this - and all the other encounters he had had with Starscream in that particular storage room in the last two weeks - had cost him.

* * *

Swindle onlined to somebody heavily pounding on the door to his and his teammates' quarters and Vortex's pathetic whining to "shut the frag up".

Tempted to stay on his berth just for a while longer - until the others would pay him to open the door just to get their visitor to stop knocking and making so much horrible, horrible noise, - he thought otherwise when Megatron's almighty, if a bit hoarse, roar echoed throughout the whole base, clearly bellowing Swindle's designation.

Swindle moved to dive under his berth, just to be caught by Onslaught's hand.

With a great effort of will the Gestalt-leader managed to stumble to the door, open it and shoved his whimpering teammate into a clearly pissed off Megatron's arms.  
He whispered, "Try to die as soundlessly as possible, thank you."

The door closed again and Swindle was on his own, staring up into the faceplates of his seething Supreme Commander.

"Megatron… fancy seeing you here… eh, what brings you here at this ungodly hour. Whatever it is, I'm sure I can get you a good price…."

Megatron swung him against the wall, the impact making Swindle's processor rattle, then the warlord just let him drop to the ground.

The yellow mech noticed two things when he finally stopped seeing double: one, Soundwave stood – or rather leant - on the wall beside his Commander, looking as miserable as one could look with a visor and a mouthguard; and two, Megatron was still lacking his fusion cannon.

So Swindle would be slowly and painfully beaten to death if his CO decided to do away with him.

"Swindle…," growled Megatron, and the Combaticon began to tremble even more.

"The Energon storage room! Now! You lead the way!"

The jeepformer scrambled to his feet before he got crushed by Megatron's first step and hurried to follow his instructions, his superiors following close behind him.

Finally they stood in the spacious room where the brightly glowing cubes were all neatly organized row by row.

"Swindle…," another growl, another frightened whimper.

"Explain!"

"Uh… what, Lord Megatron? It looks all to be in order…."

The dull red gaze above him darkened and Swindle hurried to add, "But if you want, I can organize the cubes anew. Perhaps in a circle? Or a Decepticon symbol?"

"Swindle…." This time the growl was so deep, Swindle could feel its rumble in his chassis.

"Yes, Lord Megatron, sir?"

"Stop bullshitting me!"

"Uh…."

Megatron pointed to Soundwave, then to a console at the far wall.

Soundwave took one look at the console – it was so far away, he would have to move from his comfortable position slumped against the wall to reach it - then he ejected Frenzy.  
The cassette clattered to the ground, making no move to transform at all.

Soundwave ejected another cassette, black this time, but Ravage also refused to move, other than to transform and curl up at her Creators feet, looking pitifully up at him.

The TIC glanced to his fuming Commander, the console s far, far away, then made a vague movement to try the next cassette.

Megatron blew air out of his vents, a few drops of lubricant spraying through the air.

"Swindle…. Activate the console."

The jeepformer obeyed hesitatingly, freezing in horror as the command to play the security feeds appeared on the screen.

But he was sure he had deleted all traces of his activities. And even if he hadn't, Starscream was on the tape as well, and the Seeker wouldn't have wanted to be seen blackmailing Swindle. Starscream may be a lot of things, but he was smart.

Swindle activated the feed on command and felt his Energon run cold and freeze in his lines.

Yes, Starscream was smart.

Smart enough to undo Swindle's tampering with the security feeds, while at the same time, erasing his own presence on the tapes.

"Lord Megatron, I can explain…."

His faint words were swallowed by a snort that sprayed sickly-colored Energon everywhere.  
"Really, Swindle. Then, please, try to explain me, why did you see fit to take two thirds of all our Energon reserves for yourself. I could really use a good laugh right about now."

Swindle felt his knees wobble and his optics threatening to leak. Was he getting ill now, too?

"Two… two thirds? But… but I only took a fourth or so…."

When Megatron said nothing, just stared at him through blurry, but murderous optics, Swindle dived for the Energon.

There were so many cubes, he couldn't have taken two thirds.

He had only taken one or two rows in all, and there were all those other brightly shining, pink Energon cubes which – were fakes!

Swindle froze again, staring uncomprehendingly at the small, pinkish painted cube in his hands and then at the dozens of rows before him, all painted, all empty….

Starscream.

"Lord Megatron…."

"Swindle…."

The Combaticon flinched at that threatening growl in his right audio from Megatron standing right behind him.

"You've been had."

The yellow mech whimpered faintly, knowing these words to be the truth.  
He didn't resist when Megatron's hand closed in a crushing grip around his throat and he was unceremoniously dragged over the ground, out of the door and down to the brig – and the torture chambers – and Megatron was really pissed – and… oh Primus, he was gonna die!!!

On their way down to the brig they passed Starscream, who was merrily skipping down the empty halls, a happy little smile on his face, mock bowing to Megatron as he passed and so sweet and innocent in his behavior that everybody could see that he was up to something.

Swindle caught the glint in Megatron's optics as his Commander looked at his SIC and suddenly he understood that the gunformer knew exactly what had transpired….

But Megatron could neither prove it, nor beat Starscream anyway, not if he ever wanted to see his army functional again.

Swindle was just his scapegoat.

The yellow mech whimpered again and curled up into himself.  
His last view before the brig doors closed behind him, the smirking face of Starscream, who mockingly wriggled his fingers and blew him a kiss.


	31. At The Beach

_Disclaimer: I own nothing – at least nothing Transformers related._

_**AN:**__ This chapter was hell to write._

_It should have so simple, a silly, funny little chapter without any deeper meaning. Then the twins decided to go all earnest on me, Starscream discovered his philosophical side and they simply took over. Trio of terror, indeed._

_And where the hell did the beach go?  
Shouldn't there have been a beach somewhere?_

_Thanks to mdnytryder for correcting and betaing._

**

* * *

27/28 At the beach (set some time after "Dishevelled")  
**

It was… a pitiful sight, to say the least.

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe just sat there, in the corner of the rec room, far away from their usual spot on the couches and just did… nothing.

One could have called it suling, perhaps. Or even mourning.

But mourning what?

A lost opportunity to interface? That Prowl had finally managed to completely box them in, leaving them no chance to do what they so desperately wanted? A vision of incredible mischief that would never come true?

Or perhaps the fragile bud of new love that would never blossom….

_Szzzk-shtkk...._

With a faint sizzling, a flicker of Prowl's optics and an involuntary twitch of his fingers, his logic centers failed and rebooted. Not crashing completely but still stalling at the thought of the twins and Starscream pairing up. It was just… NO.

I strict and simple "NO" - something that should, and could, never happen, for the sanity of all involved - whether it be the actual impossible paring itself, or the unsuspecting and innocent bystanders who would be caught in the fallout.

But still… the imaginary dark cloud drifting through the entire Ark from the twins' lonely corner of the rec room was threatening to overcome even Prowl's infallible logic (and common sense) and guilt him into giving in and adjusting a rule in some way that would get the twins a loophole to get what they wanted.

But he _had_ to stay firm, the consequences of him wavering would be far too disastrous!

The other occupants of the Ark weren't as resistant to the twins' obvious heartache as Prowl, even if only a handful really knew what was up with them.

Those who didn't know tried to comfort them, to cheer them up and to tempt them with opportunities for pranks. They got them tickets for a sports car show, for a concert of their favorite band, for several free car washes, new video games, contraband….

Needless to say that nothing worked and the twins stayed lost in their little, Starscream-less limbo of doom and gloom, sighing longingly now and then and generally resembling less and less the carefree and lively daredevils they had been not so long ago.

The only one who had gotten a reaction out of them at all had been Bluestreak, and that particular reaction had nearly sent the young mech into a depression himself. The kind sniper had wanted to cheer his friends up with a handmade "best-of" jetjudo scenes recorded by Teletraan.

To Bluestreak's - and every other mech's present - horror, the twins had looked utterly heartbroken and close to weeping at the sight of the good old days. Only quick interference from Jazz and Prowl had kept Blue from beating himself up for obviously making everything worse.

Prowl smiled sardonically.

Comforting Blue was really the only helpful thing Jazz had done all this time since the fateful battle. Come to think of it, it was the only helpful thing any of the other officers had done since then.

Ratchet was hiding in his medbay and refused to come out until the situation was resolved. He had stated that he could probably rebuild each twin from scratch if he had to, but that he would stay the pit away from any matters involving their Sparks. Some things were just too delicate, even for the hands of a medic.

Ironhide was making himself scarce also, either doing inventory of the weapon storage or testing every last setting of the shooting range, happily pretending to be just the old, trigger-happy, oblivious mech most of the Arks occupants saw him as anyway.

Wheeljack hadn't done anything other than be his usual self – and producing even louder explosions than usual, keeping everyone far away from his workshop.

Jazz was the only officer aside from Prowl who was still around, but he had opted for living the saying "Ignorance is bliss" and denied the whole situation. Whenever somebody tried to ask him what was actually going on and what was wrong with the twins, his internal radio would mysteriously "malfunction" and he would skip away, the curious questioner unable to find him for the rest of the day.

And then there was Prime.

Heroic, glorious, brave Optimus Prime, who had suddenly discovered his love for human politics and was attending some far away convention, whereas previously he would have assigned Prowl to cover these meetings whenever possible.

Such a selfless and courageous leader, indeed….

Which left Prowl as the only officer left to keep an optic on the twins, in addition to doing what he always did: Working on reports, giving orders, regulating the life on the Ark – and calculating the value of Pi whenever his logic center threatened to complain over his troublingly obedient and subdued misfits. He had reached the three millionth figure behind the decimal point by now.

But what should he do, set the twins free to do whatever they pleased with Starscream?

_Szzzk-shtkk...._

* * *

Sideswipe dully noted how Prowl froze over at his own table in the rec room, rebooted and then continued working as if nothing had ever happened. That was the seventeenth time today and it wasn't even noon yet.

He sighed and looked at his brother, who sat slouched over on the floor and slowly flipped through Bluestreak's recordings. Whenever he found Starscream in one of the scenes he copied the image and added it to his ever-growing collection.

Sideswipe really hoped he did that because his brother studied the Seeker's appearance to later catch it in one of his beautiful paintings and not just because they had quickly become the world greatest fan boys – but somehow the red twin doubted this would prove to be true. He too felt the urge to collect Starscream photos and build some sort of altar to worship him on as well. As disquieting as that thought was, what else should he do when he was denied the real thing?

He sighed again, wondering what the object of his affection was doing this very moment.

Was Starscream flying over the ocean?

Blue sky over a blue sea, a perfect ruby-red and diamond-white shooting-star soaring through the clouds, ruler of his azure kingdom, completely free and untamable….

Sideswipe heard a sigh to his left and noticed that his brother now sported a dreamy look of his own. Obviously his thoughts had seeped over the twin-bond and, if Sunny's twitching fingers were anything to go by, he wanted nothing more than to paint the image.

Sideswipe felt the ghost of a smile glide over his lips, then he grabbed his brothers hands and stood up, pulling Sunstreaker with him. "Come on. Let's go back to our quarters."

Sunstreaker frowned at being pulled out of his fantasy, but the thought of brush and easel awaiting him in their quarters cheered him up slightly. So, he complied with Sideswipe's request and followed him out of the rec room, neither twin noticing the worried looks of the other Autobots, at all.

Upon arrival at their quarters they were in for a surprise.

A datapad was taped to their door, dimly blinking to get their attention. The twins checked the adjourning corridors to the hallway their quarters were situated in, but no mech was in sight and the datapad looked like any other, aside from the blinking screen.

Shrugging, Sideswipe plucked the datapad from their door and entered their room, Sunstreaker immediately starting for his easel, the mysterious pad completely forgotten. Sideswipe had long since gotten used to his brother's occasional inability to keep focused on things other than his paintings or his finish. He sighed and began to concentrate on figuring out who had left them a message.

The datapad was merrily blinking away, the screen completely blank but changing colors sporadically. Sideswipe began to examine the pad, turning it over in his hands and pushing every button he could find. Nothing changed, the colors continued to flash happily as if mocking him.

The red mech scowled and began poking the screen in time with the changing lights while he thought about what he could try next. He liked riddles, he really did.  
But, not when his Spark was in constant flux, either flaring at the sight of Starscream, or - what was onfortunately far more often the case - seemingly withering away whenever Sideswipe realized anew that he could never have the Seeker.

Whoever had said that love was the most wonderful feeling in the world had oviously never experienced it for himself and should shut the frag up before ever spouting such slag again.

He couldn't have known how it was to constantly think of one lovely black face, of the gleam of the sun on slivery-white wings, of bright red and sky blue united in one sleek body of….

Sideswipe stopped his daydreaming and stared astonished at the datapad and the myriad of flashing colors. Perhaps….

He waited for the cycle of flashing colors to start anew and then touched the screen whenever one of the colors of Starscream's paintjob appeared. In a matter of mere seconds the screen turned black and lit up again, this time showing a simple message that sent Sideswipe's Spark into doing a hopeful jump in his chest.

"Sunny!"

He only got an absentminded grunt in return, his brother completely engrossed in mixing _just _the right blue color for the background of his painting.

Sideswipe sighed and threw one of the cleaning rags Sunstreaker had left lying around at his brother, "Hey Sunshine, I've used all your wax. Whatever will you do, Sunnyboy? You're not exactly the shiniest mech right now, you know?"

Sunstreaker only grunted again and showed no interest in him at all.

Sideswipe narrowed his optics at his brother. Come to think of it, Sunstreaker really had let himself go these last few weeks. His armor was scratched and had lost its shine, the paint slightly faded and showed cracks around the joints, some small dents littered the golden warrior's frame and, Sideswipe didn't quite trust his optics, there were still traces of the raindrops from last week's storm all over his brother.

The red twin hesitated, then he looked down at his own frame. He didn't look any better.

The warrior winced – had they really let themselves go that much? – and tried to get his brother's attention again, "Sunstreaker! Starscream called, he said he really likes your altruistic and modest personality."

The yellow warrior perked up at the name of his beloved, not listening to the rest of the sentence, and looked in Sideswipe's direction with such a hopeful expression on his faceplates that his twin felt badly for tricking him. At the same time he couldn't help but to be slightly angry with himself and his brother.

It was almost disgusting how infatuated they were with the Screaming One. It was ridiculous, they had always hated him, he was whiney, he was arrogant, he was a backstabber, he was a Decepticon – and yet….

And yet they were reduced into two fawning little fan boys whenever he was mentioned.

He waved his brother over, absentmindedly noticing new, bright blue spots on the golden paint, and showed him the message.

"So, hat do you think?"

"_If you really do love Starscream and aren't just searching for an excuse to cause mischief, then open this video file. Think twice about the answer, I _will_ find out._

_A friend"_

Sunstreaker looked at his brother and narrowed his optics, "Do we open it?"

Sideswipe shrugged, "Usually I would laugh and say, Pit, yes! But right now I'm not sure if we should do so. _Do _you love Starscream?"

Sunstreaker hesitated and actually thought it over.

He knew that many thought of him as shallow, but he wasn't quite shallow enough to think that you really were in love just because you were pining for somebody or answering "Yes, I do. I love you." fast enough.

What was really important, was that for some inexplicable reason, he felt his Spark jump whenever he heard the flyer's name, that he felt warm and fuzzy inside when he saw him and that he was actually willing to accept all those faults he had ever ridiculed in the Decepticon SIC. And Sunstreaker knew he would even attempt to change himself – a little bit – should the Seeker ever ask it of him.

Was that love?

If not, then it was close enough for Sunstreaker to try and turn it into real thing.

"I'm for opening it."

He looked at his brother and saw that the red mech had also been thinking things over, and he looked as determined to make this work just as much as Sunstreakers, himself, felt.

They opened the video file… and saw the not-really-appealing faceplates of Swindle.

"Greetings my dear associate – and his yellow menace of a twin. A friend of mine, who prefers the stay anonymous by the way, has clued me in that you are in desperate need of someone who is willing to help you out of a certain state of emergency. He said it would be of utmost importance that I am the one to establish contact with you, or you would fall victim to certain rules your anal… spoilsport of a SIC has created. So I hope you are able to consider the contact as established now and will not hesitate to send me a message outlining your wishes. I'm awaiting your answer, which will be brought to me by our dear friend if you leave it on this datapad and put it outside your room the night you received this. Swindle."

Sunstreaker lifted one optic ridge at Sideswipe, clearly puzzled by the way Swindle had addressed them. His brother only shrugged, "What can I say? He's weird – but helpful."

Sideswipe turned back to the datapad and opened the record function, "So, what are we trying first to get Screamer's attention?"

* * *

Starscream's day had been fairly ordinary so far.

He had survived a free-for-all brawl in the rec room when he had gone to retrieve his Energon ration, he had gone against Megatron and lived to tell the tale, he had managed to not go berserk when he found his work station full of human crap (and he had even been able to let the obnoxious Cassetticon twins live and in one piece, perhaps he finally got better in keeping his temper in check, who knew?), and he had finished all the work he had to today without exploding even once.

So, in hindsight, he decided to correct his former statement.

It hadn't been a fairly ordinary day for him, but an extraordinary _good _day.

So why did some stupid, meddling little slagheap of a Decepticon grunt have the audacity to chose this exact day to break into his quarters?

Whoever it was had probably messed up everything inside while shuffling through his personal data and belongings, breaking his latest experiment, spreading dirt everywhere and generally polluting his only privacy on this slagging tin can of a base. Wasn't anything sacred and holy anymore?

And then the fragging nosey moron hadn't had even the good grace to get caught. Nooooo, he only left some sooty residue on the wall near the door pad where he had hacked into it to open the door.

So Starscream couldn't even attempt to delude himself into thinking that it was just Skywarp being an over-curious aft again.

"Great, just slaggin great," the Seeker murmured to himself as he warily opened the door to his quarters and peered inside. One could never be too careful.

Suddenly he stopped right in his tracks.

One tiny part of his processor made a sweep of the room and noticed that everything looked exactly as he had left it, even the thin layer of dust he always blew on his most important datapads was undisturbed.

Once this tiny part of his consciousness was content that his privacy was still secure and nothing important had been stolen, it joined the rest of his CPU and gawked at the… _beautiful _painting on the wall opposite his berth.

It was a blended mix of blue and white, light blue for the endless plane of the summer sky, a deep turquoise for the ocean that faded subtlety the closer it got to the blurred line of the horizon and soft, otherworldly swirls and cotton balls of white symbolizing the clouds, heaven's way to touch his children.

Starscream couldn't help but feel enthralled and slowly stepped closer, his optics sliding over every inch of the painting, taking in every small detail. He could almost feel the wind caress his wings, kissing his face with its cool touch, urging him to follow the silent, ever present lure of the freedom of the skies, seducing him to forget and forgo his life and his identity forever and to become one with Primus' most precious gift to his beloved children.

A sky blue hand reached for the painting and traced a finger over the small, easily overlooked shape in the middle of the blue, nothing more than a hint of brilliant red and a smear of glazing silvery white – and yet it was the focus of the piece, the purpose of the whole painting, the reason why any Seeker looking at the image would be truly enchanted with it.

He stopped his caressing motion and his fingers flew to the bottom of the painting, searching for the faint impressions of the glyphs that made up the artist's designation.

Starscream was shocked when the Cybertronian letters he found spelled the name of one of the greatest banes of his existence: Sunstreaker.

The Seeker realized that Sunstreaker had been well known on Cybertron before this war and he had even seen some of his paintings – but never one like this.

Never before had Starscream seen a non-Seeker truly understand how any Seeker felt whenever he flew and touched the sky. Not as its king, but as a humble creature favored enough to be granted the gift of flight, to be one tiny part of this wholeness of infinite freedom.

He couldn't help but be impressed by the golden warrior's skill and his… _empathy_, as ridiculous as it sounded. But then again, perhaps the yellow menace had simply been lucky when painting this true work of art. Starscream snorted. The second option was much more likely.

That left the question of which one of his fellow Cons had known how much he would appreciate this picture and had gifted it to him.

Starscream sat on his berth, his optics still fixed on the wonderful painting, his processor calculating and comparing. Thankfully, not many of his peers were sophisticated and tasteful enough to secure any art they may have come across since the war started. Most of them stemmed from the lower classes of Cybertron, and had no sense for the finer things of life.

That left enough mechs to count on one hand: Onslaught, Blast Off and Swindle from the Combaticons, Soundwave and the old Slagmaker himself.

He ruled out Swindle and Megatron immediately. The oily two-faced little jeep would have probably converted the painting to credits a long time ago, perhaps even selling it to someone currently on base. The little Combaticon could be used as a last resource if Starscream didn't manage to figure out the – well, what? Admirer? Hidden friend? Possible ally? – by himself. But nothing more.

And Megatron….

The thought of Megatron giving such a beautiful painting to him was enough to make Starscream almost purge his tanks – and completely nonsensical.

They hated each other.

Period.

Soundwave sounded improbable as well. While he was certainly able to guess the pure financial value of the picture, the old mask-head would be unable to really see what made it that special. But then again, perhaps he never even knew what he was gifting to Starscream and just thought that the Seeker would like it because it was showing the sky?

And he certainly knew how to hack doors – but would he really leave so many traces if he had been the one to do so?

Surly not…

Starscream hummed, unable to decide.

Well, on to the next candidate: Onslaught.

He could be a real possibility, intelligent enough to understand what he had given to Starscream and what it meant for him. Blast Off, with his aristocratic demeanor, was a likely candidate as well, and as a fellow flyer more desirable to the Seeker than his team-mate.

Yes, Blast Off it must be.

Starscream smiled and couldn't help but marvel again at his gift.

Now, what to do about his new found… whatever…?

* * *

It was one of the most disturbing battles in the history of the war.

It started with the Lamborghini twins entering the battlefield _slowly, _with long, sorrowful faces, scuffing their feet the whole way and sending teary, pleading looks in Prime's and Prowl's direction.

The more reasonable members of the Decepticon army considered a retreat then and there, if just to save their sanity. Naturally, Megatron didn't want to hear any of it.

Prowl and Prime acted as if they didn't notice their best frontline warriors moping around and shooting only half-heartedly at everything that moved, never aiming above chest height of a standard frame mech.

This particular behavior clued the Seekers in that something was up.

Usually, the twins would be all over them, wrestling them out of the skies and scratching their wings and cockpits.

But this particular riddle would have to wait until later, much later time, because after a few minutes of puzzled staring, Thundercracker, Skywarp and the Coneheads became more interested in watching their Air Commander who, out of some unfathomable reason, had decided to use his unexpected free time to get friendly with Blast Off, of all available mechs.

The Combaticon, on the other hand, became seriously weirded out at the sight of a smiling, coy, slightly flirtatious Starscream asking him if he had gotten his hands on any interesting paintings lately.

Blast Off was – at least for the near future – saved from the jet's not entirely unwanted but extremely unsettling advances when Onslaught called his team to him to form Bruticus.

The space shuttle cycled air in immense relief at the prospect of losing himself and his thoughts on this strange day in the mindless killing machine that was his Gestalt in his full glory.

He had barely connected to his team members, when his audios registered were two rage-filled battle cries and his world exploded in pain.

Megatron stared at the unique sight of two red and yellow colored, very foolish but determined blurs attacking the several feet taller, several feet broader and several tons heavier shape of his Gestalt, Bruticus.

Correction.

The suicidal blurs attacked Bruticus' right arm.

The rest of the gigantic body didn't do anything but _stare _at the, in-comparison, tiny twins ripping, shredding and blasting away at their poor, unmoving component.

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe attacked Blast Off's part of the Gestalt with a vengeance that was both admirable and completely insane to Megatron's mind.

His left optic twitched.

Was Sideswipe biting him?

Finally Bruticus registered what was happening, roared in obvious pain and moved to get rid of the pests crawling all over him, determinedly trying to kill his right arm and ignoring everything else.

"What the frag are you feeding your soldiers, Prime?"

Optimus Prime, standing right next to his long-time nemesis, stared, like the rest of both armies, at the horribly fascinating spectacle right in front of him, feeling slightly surreal at watching his two front-liners methodically downing a whole gestalt with ease, their war cries echoing over the whole battlefield.

"I don't know, but I will tell Prowl to feed them less of it…," was his absentminded reply, his gaze locked on the terrible display of violence, carnage and bloodshed in rapt attention.

Suddenly his optics widened and he grabbed his only left sane companion in the world and pulled him down and out of the line of danger as part of a thruster sailed by.

Disturbed blue met equally traumatized red.

"I guess that means… we win this round?"

* * *

Starscream was pissed.

After his rather unsuccessful attempt to coerce Blast Off into admitting that he was the Seeker's secret admirer, he wasn't even one step closer to finding out who had gifted him with the painting. Additionally, Starscream had also been gifted by now with several boxes of expensive Highgrade, a whole crate of hard to come by Energon goodies, a full Cybertronian sized mirror, several Cybertronian novels and scientific journals and an ever-growing list of rare, expensive or well-thought over trinkets that slowly but surely filled Starscream's quarters and made them the best furnished and homey rooms of the entire Nemesis.

It was ridiculous, really.

After the battle, Starscream had visited Hook's medbay wearing his most beautiful smile and his optics dimmed in a way that had made lesser mechs' knees weaken in the past_. _When he had stepped up to the medical berth holding the drugged remains of what once (with much conjecture and at least one optic closed), could have been Blast Off, the quivering heap had _screamed._

Blast Off had _screamed_ like a little fleshing femme, higher pitched than even Starscream's own horrible voice could reach, and actually tried to get away from the jet, his gurgling, broken voice pleading and begging Hook and the rest of the shocked Constructicons to keep the Seeker far away from him.

A little bit hurt and more than a little bit miffed after that episode, Starscream decided that he wouldn't have wanted the wuss anyway.

He would continue to search for his secret beau – right after he had finished reading and critiquing the latest scientific text that had found its mysterious way into his tightly locked quarters.

Several hours later, the Seeker had set his sights ontotheserious and level-headed team leader of _"the wuss"_. He cornered Onslaught in the rec room, where the truck was sitting and drowning the memory of last battle's terrible ending in Energon.

Upon seeing a determined Air Commander strutting in his direction, Energon and defeat had suddenly been forgotten and Onslaught's whole focus had been on a tactical retreat. Starscream was sure that he had never before seen somebody make such an utter fool out of himself in such a dignified and serious manner.

He hadn't even realized that it was possible.

But, well, he had to admit, while the smooth talking and babbling had been kind of irritating, and the second failure annoying, he had gotten a kick out of tempting and luring Onslaught into increasingly ridiculous behavior as well.

His next victim… err, possible suitor had been, after long consideration, Swindle. Even if he doubted that the little jeep had the gearings (and the mindset) to practically shower him with expensive gifts without revealing himself (and demanding some kind of compensation), chances were high that the greedy fragger at least knew where some of the trinkets had come from and could help Starscream track his admirer down - for a small fee.

The only things the SIC got out of that particular meeting was a processor-ache, the urge to punch the jeepformer's smarmy grin in and the certain feeling that the little yellow annoyance knew far more than he let on and was having far too much fun with the whole thing to even consider the generous bribes Starscream had tried to tempt him with.

Slag!

The next mech on his list had been Soundwave.

Tired of the whole ordeal, the laughter of his by now clued in subordinates (courtesy of a grinning Skywarp who had "Just wanted to increase your chances, Screamer, really. He..hey! What are you doing? Watch where you point that thing! No! No! Don't…! ARGGH! TC!!! HELP!!!"), and actually dreading the answer, Starscream had just entered the bridge one day and flopped down on a chair next to the Communication Officer and started staring at the blue mech.

For a long time nothing happened, Soundwave kept working and Starscream kept staring, his face completely blank and unreadable.

After almost half an hour, the longest time any Decepticon had ever seen their SIC sit still and actually do nothing, not even tormenting them with his voice, Soundwave had relented and turned to face the motionless Seeker.

Starscream had done nothing.

Soundwave had stared.

Starscream didn't flicker an optic.

Soundwave continued to wait.

And so, to the amusement and bewilderment of Megatron and the rest of the Decepticons onboard the Nemesis, a three-hour-long game of "Who cracks first" had started.

Surprisingly enough, making some Cons feel uneasy in the process, it had been Soundwave who had caved first. With a nervous twitch he had averted his optics.

"Query: What do you want, Starscream?"

Starscream had looked him up and down, his face remaining carefully blank, "Are you…?"

"NO!"

Every mech on the bridge had stared at Soundwave at this exclamation, who had squirmed, _squirmed!,_ turned and tried to hide behind his console, shyly stating a soft, "Negative," refusing to make optic contact with anybody for the rest of the day.

Starscream hadn't cared about the unique opportunity to make fun of his fellow officer, he was far too relieved that his secret suitor wasn't Soundwave.

He couldn't help but sag into his chair and relax his tense wings for a bit before he tackled the last possible candidate.

A few minutes went by, and Soundwave attempted to slowly curl into himself in an attempt to vanish completely behind his console. Then Starscream jumped dramatically to his feet – Soundwave flinched noticeably – and made a determined step in Megatron's direction.

He never got much further, suddenly finding himself staring right into the slowly brightening barrel of Megatron's fusion cannon, the hellish depths spewing sparks and white hot air over his faceplates and changing him from a proud, young warrior out to take on the world into a quivering wreck ready to crumple and beg for forgiveness for whatever he had done this time.

Face to face with certain death Starscream couldn't help but congratulate himself for not fainting straight away.

"I'lll take this as a 'No'…," he murmured faintly and fled from the bridge.

* * *

So Starscream was pissed.

He sat on the bridge in front of one of the monitors that usually displayed the security feeds of the Nemesis and tried to distract himself from the torture that was his life with some stupid human computer game.

He played a digitally created fleshling, affectionally called "MS" or "MiniScreamer" by Skywarp and "MegatronSucks" by Starscream could be bothered to change the name back from whatever Skywarp or the Cassetticon twins had hacked into the game. The tiny fleshling was slaughtering other digitally created fleshlings that belonged to players all over this miserable mudball of a planet, in as many ways as he could think of.

The carnage and bloodshed usually managed to soothe his nerves almost as well as the real thing and his ego loved to see the fleshling-played characters fall all around him, courtesy of his superior skills, mind, computer and internet connection.

Even now he could feel his irritated thoughts settle and his processor slow down, enjoying the mindless destruction and the cheers of his subordinates in the background.

For all intents and purposes, Starscream and his little group of fans should have been keeping an optic on any suspicious behavior in- and outside the base during the night-cycle and on their newly acquired prisoners, the infamous Autobot twins themselves – but watching Starscream, the uncrowned (and for once unchallenged) master of all video games himself, mowing his way through dozens of enemies at once was way more fun and had serious betting potential.

Even now Energon cubes were changing hands, the bets placed on everything from the number of XP Starscream would make with this particular mission, the time he would need until he was the last one standing or if that strange duo from last week would turn up and blow kisses at their weirded out SIC's character again.

Starscream didn't care for the bets at all, he didn't want to think anymore, so he just entered the next mission and lifted his sword.

* * *

Only one mech on the bridge didn't care that much for the Seeker's usual stress therapy.

Swindle had already blackmailed Onslaught into placing and collecting the bets, threatening him with disclosing why exactly the big, bad Gestalt leader was afraid to even come near their lovely SIC.

Scared of two colorful, loud-mouthed Autodorks, what a great and powerful Decepticon warrior he was.

Swindle snorted.

Even if the rest of the battlefield hadn't been able to hear what the twins had whispered when their comrades had finally managed to keep them from attacking Blast Off, Bruticus' other components had heard them loud and clear and the majority of them had vowed to never get within a ten meter radius of Starscream again.

Swindle knew no such fright and, while thoroughly amused with the situation and his superiors inability to connect the dots and think outside the proverbial box, he treated Starscream the same way as always, wary of the mercurial moods and mean streak of the Seeker but mainly a likely source of credits and Energon.

The little jeep made sure that everybody on the bridge – every Decepticon apart from Megatron, Soundwave and the Cassetticons – were occupied with the images of Starscream ruthlessly slaying another opponent, then he opened a com channel.

"It's safe, let them out."

* * *

Deep in the under levels of the Nemesis, Rumble grinned up at two pairs of icy blue optics and deactivated the energy barrier of the brig.

"You heard the gentlemech. You've got six hours, then you've got to be back in your cells or we're in really deep shit."

"Four hours," a deeper voice corrected.

"I bet that Jazz will be here to free us in four hours."

"No way, don't forget he has to cross the ocean to reach the base. Five hours tops."

"You're on, Autobot," Frenzy grinned. "So… I take it he's in on our little plan? He can help if he makes it fast enough."

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker exchanged an uneasy look.

"No, officially he doesn't know anything and thinks it's a usual search-and-rescue operation…. But I'm pretty sure he kind of noticed that you've practically begged to be captured these last few days," drawled a familiar voice from the doorway.

The Autobot twins had the good grace to look suitably embarrassed and guilty as Jazz appeared in the door to the brig, beating all odds and complicating their plans for the night without even trying.

The officer stared at his foolish subordinates for some moments, then he sighed and shook his head. He too had been infatuated once, and even if he didn't recall going to these lengths just to get a foot into the door, he was willing to help Sideswipe and Sunstreaker just this once, as long as nobody got hurt.

Correction: As long as nobody got more hurt than Blast Off, the poor, unsuspecting chap.

"Come on, guys. Didn't you have plans for the night?"

The four beaming grins he got in return almost made it worth the lecture he was sure he would receive once he got home to Prowl.

* * *

Starscream wearily poked the door pad, the Cybertronian glyphs covered in soot from the booby trap he had set to catch his admirer this time around. Naturally, it hadn't worked, his security had been breached and he couldn't decide if he should be angry that he still didn't know who was making his life that much harder or if he should be bouncing in glee with anticipation at yet another sweet, well-thought out gift given to him by a secret suitor.

He finally settled on anger, after one swift look at Skywarp at his side confirmed that the black and purple Seeker had already taken over the bouncing part.

Starscream sighed, steeled himself, checked that his scowl was firmly in place and keyed open the door.

He was faintly aware that the sound of his and his wingmates' jaws meeting the floor must have been heard throughout the whole Nemesis, but he just couldn't bring himself to care right now.

Skywarp was the first to find his voice.

"You know, if it turns out you don't like your suitor, I'll take him any time," he said softly and eyed his superior's quarters appraisingly.

"Primus, even if you DO like him, would you mind if I borrow him?" Thundercracker murmured. When he noticed the sudden dark glare that was sent in his direction, he rushed to clarify, "Just once, for redecorating my quarters. Nothing else, promise!"

Starscream chose not to comment, he wanted to see his admirer first before he decided if he would share or lend him in any way. Apart from that, he was still completely captivated by what his beau had made of his formerly dull, purple quarters.

The boring old paint had been stripped completely away and replaced by a giant mural of the sky, fitting seamlessly to the still prominent painting that had been the very beginning of this whole, strange courting. It continued the vague horizontal lines of the image, using it as the centerpiece of a larger picture showing the clear blue of the sky slowly fading into the colorful hues of a sunset right above Starscream's berth, bathing the berth itself and the floor it stood upon in red, purple and gold.

Everything was colored, not just the walls, the ceiling and the floor, but also the computer, the desk, the chair – everything. And with a love for even the tiniest of details.  
Starscream was sure that he could see a flock of seagulls sailing lazily just above his main datashelf and some dolphins playing right under his mirror.

Slowly the Decepticon SIC became aware of his logic center patiently trying to get his attention, announcing happily that it had connected some dots and was 96% certain as to the identity of the secret suitor. Starscream, still scanning his new quarters and marveling over the many tiny details, like the little rock in right corner or the evening star he could faintly see near the melting colors of the setting sun, acknowledged the message absentmindedly, and pinged his logic center to send him the results.

This time it wasn't just his jaw that dropped.

Under the worried gazes of his wingmates, Starscream spontaneously decided that standing was way too much of a feat right now….

* * *

Sideswipe stared into the dull blue optics of his brother.

Sunstreaker stared right back.

Why did nothing work?

They had tried everything, wooed Starscream as professionally as Casanova, getting him gifts, getting him sweets, actually striking up conversations with the respective nerd bots of the crew to get a grip on what somebody of their sort would and wouldn't like, endured the incessant chatter of the Aerialbots trying to find out how a flyer ticked, intimidating Wheeljack into telling them how exactly he managed to calm their ever temperamental CMO down after an especially gruesome day, bribing several mechs, including the great Optimus Prime (who looked like he just had wanted to get away and forget that this conversation had ever happened), how they had courted their respective bondmates or lovers.

And still, nothing worked.  
Starscream showed no sign of interest, let alone affection for them, he was even going around chatting up other mechs if Swindle's hints were anything to go by.

For the second time in several weeks the twins were at a complete loss of what to do.

"I don't understand it," murmured Sunstreaker, his shoulders sagged and his whole posture slumped. Sideswipe sighed and leaned forward on his berth until he could hold his heavy head upright with his hands, his elbows resting on his knees.

"I know. I… I don't understand it either. We've tried everything. We…."

He sighed again, one of his hands mindlessly wiping over his faceplates while his processor ached from trying to come up with ever-new possibilities to win Starscream over.

By now he was almost ready to admit defeat, to admit the unthinkable.

"Perhaps… perhaps we should give up? Maybe he just can't like us like that. I know Swindle says that we still have a chance – but perhaps he's laughing at us. Perhaps it's just one giant joke for those Cons and they are sitting there in their stupid tin can and betting on what those stupid, goo-goo opticed Autobot twins come up with next and…."

Sideswipe slowly stopped when he became aware of warm pressure against his forehead. He lifted his optics from the floor and stared right into the, for once understanding and empathic optics of his brother, showing the same misery and desperation he himself felt.

For a moment he reveled in the closeness, of the feeling of belonging and peace, and tried to forget everything.

After a minute in which both twins simply sat, forheads touching and sharing their worries and fears but also their determination and hopes, he was composed enough to face their dilemma once again.

"What do we do now?" He asked much calmer now.

Sunstreaker shrugged, not breaking the contact.

"We've tried everything."

Sunstreaker nodded, moving his brother's head with his own and getting him to smile faintly at this. The golden twin couldn't help but mirror this smile with one of his own.

Suddenly Sideswipe stilled the motion, optics wide and fixated on his brother's smile.

He had had an epiphany.

The red twin sat up straight and continued to stare at his brother, amazed that they had overlooked this small, but very important fact for so long.

"We've tried everything," he exclaimed excitedly.

Sunstreaker sat up also and grimaced, "We've already established that."

"Yeah, but don't you understand? We've tried everything - but only things that others suggested or told us to do. Sweets and gifts are practically standard, the mirror idea was from Tracks, Bluestreak suggested your paintings as presents, Jazz advised us to do something so… so impressive that it couldn't be ignored, Optimus said it shouldn't be too flashy but something that shows that you've thought about it, Prowl, after fritzing, gave us his list of interesting novels, the science guys got us the journals…."

Sideswipe jumped from his seat and began to pace, gesturing animatedly with his hands while speaking. "We've done nothing that's completely something we thought out. We did nothing uniquely 'twin-style'. We just sort of reused their ideas."

He stopped to look directly at his brother.

"Shouldn't Starscream be worth more than that? If we want to convince him to at least consider us as possible… somethings, then we have to do it completely our own way."

Sunstreaker pondered the words of his brother for a moment, than a slow grin began to form on his faceplates.

"Gee, Sides, what do you want to do tonight?"

Sideswipe grinned devilishly and began to rub his hands together, "The same thing we do every night, Sunny."

Sunstreaker's grin widened, then it suddenly turned into a frown when he looked his brother over a bit more thoroughly, only now noticing the traces of weeks of self-abandonment.

"But first we're going to clean up."

* * *

"Why did we bother to wash again?" muttered Sunstreaker for the thousandth time in three hours. "Slagging sand. All the good polish and wax, wasted for nothing. We'll look worse than an avergage Empty, all scratched and dinged up, once Starscream arrives."

He narrowed his optics and futilely tried to find a position that kept the tiny grains from finding their way even further into his circuitry. He only succeeded in even more scratches marring his formerly pristine finish.

And he had spent so much time primping for their meeting with Starscream….

Well, at least the other Autobots had appreciated his effort and congratulated him for getting over whatever had dampened his mood for those last months.

Sunstreaker snorted. Clueless idiots.

Speaking of idiots.

He whacked his own resident idiot over the helmet for good measure. Sideswipe yelped, rudely woken out of his doze. "What was that for?" he whispered harshly, carefully rubbing over the newly formed dent, wondering if Starscream would notice.

"I've got a list of reasons but I'll settle for the top three. One, I'm dirty, hot and my paint is a mess. Every effort I ever put into my appearance is totally wasted thanks to you and your stupid plan. Two, we've been sitting here for three hours now, doing absolutely nothing while the sand is slowly clogging my gears and more than one crab has eyed me as their possible new domicile and I refuse to stink of shrimp even more than I already do, thanks to you. Three, your whole plan is bullshit! Just accept it, Starscream won't come! We should just give up and be done with it. He obviously isn't interested in us."

Sunstreaker stared intently at his brother, his enraged ventilations heating the tight space under the camouflage foil even further. Sideswipe shuffled around, not knowing how to answer his brother for once. He was worried, too, that Starscream wouldn't appear and that he and his twin had waited the last three hours for nothing here, in their tight little hole at the beach, after painstakingly digging it, hiding their traces and holding out in the cramped room despite the heat of the particular sunny summer day.

Perhaps Swindle hadn't been able to convince him to come, or Megatron had slagged him again, or – Primus beware – Sunny was right and Starscream was laughing at their attempts somewhere in the nice, comfortably cool coziness of his wonderful new quarters.

Sideswipe felt his Spark clench inside his chest, practically whithering away at the mere thought of its feelings being not returned.

Sunstreaker, not comfortable with his brother's lack of a reaction – _any_ reaction – and the sudden ache in his own Spark, began to shuffle around, flinching when even more sand began to tickle and itch underneath his armor plates.

After some minutes of heavy silence, Sideswipe, despite the heat, shifted closer to his brother, searching his closeness. "Perhaps you're right…," he admitted quietly, optics downcast.

Sunstreaker sighed. He couldn't get any dirtier anyway.

He slung one arm around his brother's shoulders, careful not to move the foil above them.

"We'll wait another hour."

* * *

Their patience was rewarded.

Forty-five minutes later the sounds of thrusters could be heard.

A jet approached the beach at a rapid pace, shooting right over it once, before banking and coming back a second time, checking it for hidden threats at a more leisurely pace.

Sideswipe bit on his hand to keep from letting out a loud whoop of joy when the Seeker's wing flashed in the oh-so-long-awaited colors of red and white.

A glance to his side confirmed that Sunstreaker was grinning like a maniac and was hunching even closer to the ground, not caring anymore about the sand.

The twins sent a quick prayer to Primus when Starscream made a third pass, hoping that their camouflage worked and that he couldn't see them from the sky.

Apparently it worked a little _too_ well, because the next second they were praying that the Decepticon SIC wouldn't land right on them, melting their frames together in the process.

Wouldn't that be just the perfect ending of the day? Melted to tiny colorful blobs by the flyer they had the hots for.

They were lucky.

Starscream redirected in the last moment and flew to a point closer to the shoreline, transforming when he touched down. The Seeker looked around nervously, shifting from one foot to the other and searching the beach critically for anything out of place.

The twins huddled closer together under their foil, kept their vents down as much as possible and hoped for the best. Percy was a genius after all, right? So the camouflage foil they had "borrowed" should work and hide them from the jet's optics and scanners alike – or Perceptor would get a piece of their mind should they ever make it back to the Ark alive.

Apparently it worked, as Starscream's gaze wandered right past their little hole and over the rest of the beach. The Seeker frowned, folding his arms over his chassis and tapping impatiently with his fingers on his arms.

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker waited, the heat in their hideout becoming slowly unbearable.

Starscream muttered some profanity and nervously began wandering around, optics searching either the horizon or the beach for movement of any kind, his head turning slowly from left to right and left again.

The twins managed the impossible and stopped their vents completely, valiantly ignoring the warnings of overheating circuitry on their HUDs.

One more meter, one more step….

Starscream walked closer, turned to the sea once more and – with a wild cry of triumph - the twins jumped out of their hole and downed the shrieking Seeker.

The poor Starscream didn't even know what hit him.

One moment he was staring worriedly at the horizon, battling with himself if he should stay or run as fast as possible, the next second the ground behind him practically exploded and he tumbled head over heals into a mix of dust, sand, red, blue and yellow flashes and too many grabby hands for his liking, his audios ringing because of the wild screaming of three different voices at the same time.

When the world finally righted itself and began to make sense again, the Seeker found himself in stasis cuffs and being dragged over the sand to a nice flat spot on a small cliff above the beautiful turquoise ocean, far away from the tiny grains of sand getting everywhere. He was set down on a some sort of cloth, a soft click was heard and then several cubes of expensive Highgrade and Energon treats were arranged before him, intermixed with some tasteful decorations.

Starscream watched, at a complete loss for words, as the infernal Autobot twins methodically began to spread flower petals, candles and colorful artificial pebbles around, lit said candles, checked everything one last time – and then stared hopefully up at Starscream, waiting for his reaction.

"You two are _weird_! _Beyond_ weird!"

The twin's faces fell and they gazed at each other unsure, then, gathering their courage again, back at Starscream.

"Look, Screamer… Starscream." Sideswipe glanced at his brother who nudged him to go on, optics glued on the Seeker's bound form. Suddenly he reached out, hesitated for a moment, and then, shyly, swept some dust from Starscream shoulders, his hand lingering for a moment, than abruptly returning to his lap as if burned. The Seeker's optic ridge rose, he himself caught between amusement, disbelief and some strange sense of having somehow ended up in the wrong dimension.

Sideswipe sighed, could they both be any more obvious?

"Starscream…," oh, how to say it. "Over the course of the last month or so, Sunny and I have found out that we both like you, a –"  
"Wait a moment! _Both_ of you?" Starscream stared at them and cursed. His logic center obviously was out of practice for not having grasped that possibility.

The twins looked crestfallen at his sudden exclamation and huddled unconsciously closer together. Bravely Sideswipe continued, "We like you a lot and would like to get to know you better. So we wanted to ask you out for a date."

Starscream snorted and looked meaningful at the arrangements around him, "Do I even have a choice?"

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe looked at each other, silently conversing. After some moments, their shoulders sagged and the golden twin, sitting closest to Starscream, sighed and opened the cuffs. "Yes, you do."

Starscream rubbed his wrists absentmindedly, wondering when exactly his world had turned upside down.  
One look at the dejected expressions of the twins, who _should_ be the bane of his existence, and he felt like he had just kicked a turbo-puppy. 

_Two_ turbo-puppies.

Repeatedly!

He sighed and made himself more comfortable on the blanket.

"Alright, you've got one chance to make it worth my while. Don't mess it up!"

The twins positively beamed and Starscream ruthlessly quashed the warm, fuzzy feeling that his Spark and the tiny shreds that were left of his conscience tried to send him in a joint effort.

He held up one finger.

"On one condition!"

And there were the turbo-puppies again….

Starscream frowned and suppressed the bouncy feeling in his Spark yet again.

"You will have to clean out my thrusters, afterwards. One shard of glass in there after I power them up, and there will never be a second date!"

The happy, hopeful smiles returned instantly, causing Starscream to almost reconsider his choice, especially when the warm feeling wormed it's way back into the forefront of his processor.

And this time, it refused to go away.

* * *

Prowl was worried.

He paced in front of the Ark's entrance, sending anxious glances in the direction of the slowly rising sun every now and then.

Jazz was worried.

He stood next to Prowl, silent for once, and keeping an optic on the horizon as well as an audio on the radio channels.

Ratchet was worried.

He was scurrying around in his medbay, polishing his tools until they mirrored his concerned face, wishing that he wouldn't have to use them today.

Ironhide was worried.

The shooting range was silent for once and he just stood there and stared at the targets, his processor far away from the fun things of life.

Wheeljack was worried.

That means, he had been, until he was distracted enough to connect the wrong wires and short circuit himself.  
He was currently lying forgotten on the floor of his lab and was in temporary stasis until his repair systems had finished their work.

Prime was worried.

In fact, he was so worried that he was having bad dreams as he lay twitching and groaning with his head on his desk, half filled Highgrade cube in one hand and surrounded by even more empty ones.

Everybody was worried.

So it was understandable that every mech on the Ark cycled a huge intake of air in relief the moment the announcement came over the ship-wide comm., courtesy of Red Alert: "They are back."

Indeed, Prowl and Jazz spotted them the very same moment, two slowly moving shadows, weaving unsteadily from side to side as if unable to drive straight.

Both officers were torn between hurrying to the twins' side to help them, look them over and make sure that they weren't hurt and still alive and in one piece, and staying where they were, awaiting the misfits who had once again sent the whole Ark in a chaotic frenzy with their sudden disappearance, and that wasn't even counting their behavior over the previous months, and deal out well-deserved punishment.

They stayed, waiting, worrying and not being able fight the growing feeling of dread in their Sparks at the twins' uncharacteristic behavior.

No racing, no name-calling, no fighting. Not even an attempt to run away or to excuse their actions with unbelievable stories.

Just the same slow, unsteady pace, slowly revealing to the officers more and more scratches, dents and scuffed paint.

Finally the twins, still in vehicle mode, came to a rest right in front of the two officers, sitting low on their shocks, their undercarriage almost touching the ground.

Prowl and Jazz looked at the sorry state of the two mechs and the way their forms seemed to almost droop, then they looked at each other and silently decided to change tactics.  
Right now they just hadn't the Spark to punish their poor, favorite troublemakers.

"Hey, guys." Jazz, an easy if slightly forced, grin on his face, stepped closer and lightly rested a hand on each hood, patting it comfortingly. "Primus, you look as if somebody tossed you off a cliff. Everything all right?"

Sunstreaker sighed, his form lifting and sagging noticeably with the movement.

"Fine. Better than fine. Starscream liked the date, we had fun and we interfaced," he murmured dreamily. "_Then_ he kicked us off the cliff."

"Said, it was sweet what we did, but he didn't like being messed around with like that and we shouldn't dare do it again," Sideswipe added cheerfully but clearly exhausted.

"Wasn't easy to get back on the beach. The tide was horrible."

Jazz stared at them, at a loss of words.  
He barely noticed a soft _Szzzk-shtkk _in the background, then Prowl crashed to the ground, becoming the first official victim of the newly formed pairing/trio of the pit.

The twins waited for some moments, but when it became clear that neither officer would say something anytime soon, they just continued on their way to a nice, long, hot shower and an even longer recharge filled with dreams of their favorite jet.

* * *

Red Alert smirked at the sight of Jazz playing statue in front of the Ark and commed Ratchet to go retrieve the lifeless form of Prowl. Then he closed the feed on the screen, opened one of Swindle's many fake bank accounts and transferred a generous amount of the money the Autobot had earned through advising companies on security issues, at the same time mailing the Combaticon some of the highly sensitive information he had picked up as the one bot who had his optics and audios everywhere and knew practically everything that happened on Earth.

It was a small price to pay compared to the devastating impact the twins would have had on the general morale of their fellow Autobots if they had continued to mope or even defected just to be nearer to their crush.

As much as Red liked to rant and rave about the twin terrors, he was well aware of how important they were to the cause and that he had to keep them close and loyal.

And with Starscream obviously willing to overlook the boundaries of factions, everything would be back to normal soon enough.  
The Seeker was probably even thrilled at the thought of basically committing high treason, knowing that Megatron wouldn't do anything about it. The former gladiator had his faults, and there wer many at that, but he was as aware as Red Alert was of what they had to let slide if their repective factions ever hoped to win this war.

Now the Security Chief only had to wait for his fellow officers to get over their ridiculous fears, stopp behaving like Younglings who'd imagined seeing Unicron under ther berths and to finally decide to get over it and take it like the mechs they were.

Red Alert snorted at the thought, wondering how much more blackmail material his fellow High Command would provide him with before they decided to simply suck it up and deal with it. Transactions completed, he leaned back in his chair, feet on his console and began whistling a jaunty little tune he had picked up from Jazz sometime, feeling completely content with himself and the world at large, and congratulated himself on a job well done.

Now, what to do about their second date….

_

* * *

_

_After looking at the chapter count of this story, I decided that 33 is a better number than 32 and so the next chapter won't be "On his knees" but a last special, called either "Abyss" or "Status Quo". Tell me what title you like better. _


	32. Special Five: Abyss

_Disclaimer: I own nothing – at least nothing Transformers related._

_**AN: **__This is not a nice chapter. No, it isn't._

_And I shouldn't write such stuff at 3 am. No, I most definitely shouldn't._

_Thanks to mdnytryder for correcting and betaing._

**

* * *

Special Five: Abyss (G1)**

_And when you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you - Friedrich Nietzsche_

He was suffocating.

Sometimes he stood here, in his dark room deep within the Nemesis and felt like - well, not exactly as if he couldn't breathe (he **did not **breathe, after all),- but still, he felt as if something was suffocating him.  
It was insubstantial, invisible, untraceable, but still, it was there, smothering him, seeping into his vents and through the seams in his armor, clouding his vision, kissing his Spark and then clenching it slowly but mercilessly, drowning it in frost and the infinite blackness of space.

He was suffocating, and if he hadn't been so scared, he would have hated it.

But Megatron was scared and as he felt his inner circuits freeze up and crack in the cold grip of pure, unadulterated fear, he couldn't help but envy all those other creatures on Earth, humans and mechs alike, for their ignorance.

His Spark pulsed painfully in his chest, caged by the icy bonds of panic, and Megatron offlined his optics to concentrate completely on maintaining his brittle composure and to act like the strong, determined warlord everybody saw him as for another day.

Should he fail in this act, the consequences would be dire, not only for the mechs under his command, but his enemies as well.

Megatron should have hated Starscream for putting him in this position, if the mere sight of the Seeker didn't terrify him.

He onlined his optics slowly, trying to find solace in the deep, red, _warm_ glow reflecting off the datapads on his desk, but it was no use.  
The joints in his hands were still hissing and trembling and the fear only curled tighter around his Spark, freezing the Energon in his lines and mocking him silently in his helplessness, for his inability to save his mechs, to do _anything_.

If only he had known.

If only he had killed Starscream the first time he had laid optics on the scientist-turned-soldier.

If only he could do something to warn Prime.  
Perhaps together they would find a way to get rid of the threat once and for all. Megatron would even accept ultimately losing the war if that was what it would take….

But he couldn't.

Each time he stood in front of his army, each time he was locked in battle with the Prime he wanted nothing more than to shout, whisper, scream the horrible truth and warn them of the unseen force that played with their lives, and unbeknownst to them, controlled their every action.

But he couldn't, because one wrong muttered word, one crack in his façade would mean death for all of them – or worse….

If only he had known.

But then again, there had been no way he could have noticed.

The Seeker had seemed so sane in the beginning, so eager and desperate and passionate about the cause.  
It had only been much later that the whispered jokes had started, the covert suggestions that his Second was mad, that he had cracked his processor in some battle. And later, when the suggestions, jokes and insults had become open and cruel, Starscream's actions had hinted at some other kind of madness, at some form of masochism perhaps, or a superiority complex coupled with the desperate need to control….

If only it had been that simple.

But Starscream didn't crave pain, he just didn't care if he got injured or not.

And the Seeker didn't want the leadership of the Decepticons. After all, he didn't need it with the fates of every single mech on Earth in his hands.

And he hadn't gone mad as a result of the war.

His descent into madness had happened long before, when he had lost his sanity to the vast nothingness of space, shattered into pieces too small to ever been found again and became nothing but a husk full of vaguely remembered needs and unfulfilled wishes.

Nobody would ever know if the long, lonely journey back to Cybertron after losing Skyfire had been the final straw to break Starscream completely. Or if the loss - one more desertion in a lenghty personal history of abandonment - had given the Seeker's already unstable psyche the final push in the wrong direction.

Whatever the cause, when he had returned home, he had found a world mirroring his own distorted inner state.

Would he have been still capable of feeling anything, he would have probably been ecstatic.

But as it was, Starscream had simply seen an opportunity and used it to create a mockery of the dreams, fears and memories of his previous, sane self, their crash on Earth only sealing the fates of every single mech on the planet and probably everywhere else.

Now he was in control, the Second in Command of one of the most powerful armies in the universe.

He was provided with food, shelter and warmth most of the time, his basic, instinctual needs fullfilled.

He wasn't alone anymore, surrounded by the same, familiar mechs day after day.  
But conversly, he stood outside of their close-knit groups and so he was alone in a crowd, always only a breath away from company but at the same time discouraging anyone from getting too close. Once he would have been afraid to getting harmed if he allowed anyone close, but now, after losing this fear to space and time, he only followed a deeply ingrained habit and prevented a discovery of his madness at the same time.

His position of power was affected as well from the ghosts of memories.  
He had actively brought himself into a situation of constant humilitation and pain after establishing himself as "irreplaceable", combining a violent past, deeply engraved habits, fears and wishes into some sick mix that would have once given him reassurance and the comfort of familiar if cruel patterns.

And now, here on Earth, he had plenty to learn, to research and discover.

While he was completely indifferent to the results of his experimentation and testing, the memory of long hours in a lab and some foggy urge to simply _know_ was enough for him to decide that he "liked" the current status quo and that the world would remain unchanging.

Period.

And so, after long years of interchangeable defeats and victories, Megatron had finally, _painfully _caught onto his Second's real game behind all the treachery and screechy insults.

One day he had analyzed the pattern, noticed that whenever one side came too close to actually winning the war, or at least the battle over Earth, the balance would tip again.  
Sometimes through "open" interference of Starscream himself, or some other "coincidence" that with enough patience and unconventional thinking could be traced back to the Seeker.

The warlord had naturally been furious, intent on offlining Starscream once and for all.

Bbut when the flyer had stood before him with a new, neat hole in his wing and just smiled, Megatron felt the first tendrils of the now-so-familiar fear creep into his Spark.  
A forebording that something much more serious was amiss than just a Second in Command proving his superiority by manipulating some events.

And for the first time in millennia, Megatron had really_ looked_ at his Second, had noticed the hollow smile and the empty optics devoid of - devoid of _simply anything_, be it morality, feelings or life.  
And he had noticed the abyss behind those optics, the Spark that was truly nothing more than a glowing ball of energy and leftover splinters of _"once"._

For the first time in all his life, Megatron had felt the terror that was now his constant companion, always there, always waiting and reminding him how utterly helpless he was and that they all were nothing but pawns in a dead mech's carcass of a dream and that Starscream would dispose of them all should they threaten the status quo or should he "tire" of them.

And he couldn't help but dread the day the Seeker had learned all he could about Earth, because there was no way to know what the instinct-driven husk would decide on next, if he would let one side win or guide the war to the next planet in a long, long line of planets, just to keep him company in his lonely journey through insanity.

Megatron had looked into his Second's optics and an abyss had smiled back at him.

He wasn't sure if he should feel relief at the knowledge that one day it might do more….


	33. IV On His Knees

_Disclaimer: I own nothing – at least nothing Transformers related._

_**AN: **__There are many things you can criticize about the first "Transformers: The Movie"(1986) and the following seasons, but Starscream's fate is one of the things that irks me the most. There are open endings and open endings and his not-quite-end was just cruel.  
Immortality is only a gift if you have something to live for, but Starscream has had taken everything from him with absolutely no way out, and as cruel, petty and heartless as was in the show, even he never deserved that.  
Nobody does._

_Thanks to mdnytryder for correcting and betaing and being a great help, advisor and friend in general. And thanks to Starfire201 for letting me whine, worry and procrastinate all day long XD  
And, naturally, thanks to all your reviewers as well. You rock!_

**

* * *

**

**28/28 IV On his knees (G1 AU, post war)**

_Getaway, runaway, fly away_

_Lead me astray to dreamer's hideaway_

_I cannot cry 'cause the shoulder cries more_

_I cannot die, I, a whore for the cold world_

_Forgive me_

_I have but two faces_

_One for the world_

_One for God_

_Save me!_

_~ Poet and the Pendelum by Nightwish ~_

_(sometime)_

He had tried finding the beginning of time to nudge the first particles of the universe into a direction that would either change his horrible fate or delete his complete existence forever.

But whenever he got near this mysterious moment, he found himself halted and unable to go further. He was bound to witness the effects of the first burst of light and darkness, the birthing of thousands of planets and stars, without ever seeing the true start, the true spark of life.

For he was mortal, dead or not, and the "Beginning" was something reserved purely for the gods.

He had tried following the universe's path to its end, to face the infinite emptiness that would follow and to fling himself into blissful oblivion, along with everything else that had ever been.

But regardless how long he waited, how far he traveled, time just went on and on. Lives began and ended and he still was, without being anything at all.  
And whenever he started over he just saw another reality, witnessed other possibilities until he couldn't help but admit that time was endless and he would never find rest.

For he was just a ghost, a sinner, a forgotten memento of one reality among uncounted others and why should gods have a need for endings, if they themselves existed for all eternity, creating and destroying forevermore?

Without any way to touch the "Beginning", the "Ending" or the "In-between" of a life he had once called his own – for all that it had been worthless – Starscream drifted along, reduced to nothing but a constantly aching Spark. He longed for things he had never known and was still searching for the one way that would "make it all right again" that never had been.

And one day, after eternities, he who had never believed – had never been _able _to believe, only to doubt – hesitantly sunk through the outer layers of Cybertron down to the very core, hoping and dreading what he would find there.

For if he could see neither "Beginning" nor "End", if there were restrictions, somebody had to be there to make them. And after making cursed dealings with a dark god himself, perhaps there was truly a divine being sleeping deep inside of Cybertron.  
A being whom, if not willing to release him from his fate, would perhaps at least answer him, "Why?"

And He was there, a light brighter than anything else Starscream had ever witnessed, radiating warmth and love and life just outside of the ghost's reach, and the ghost sobbed because - _So close, so close…_ - he had never before been more aware how completely removed from everything he was.

The translucent Seeker sank to the floor of the wide chamber, choking on the pain, the loneliness, and the desperation of his existence when all he had ever wanted was _there_, just out of his grasp and he would never be able to do anything about it.

"_I've waited a long time for you to come."_ His voice was soft, gentle, everthing and nothing at once and Starscream would have cried if he could, because Primus existed and there was hope after all.  
But at the same time, it meant that there was a god and he was cruel enough to curse him with this non-life.

"Why?" he choked. And it were so many whys, so many questions that had never been answered.

Primus chose to answer the most obvious of all, _"Because I wait for all of my children, however long they may need to return to me. That is what a Creator does."_

"But I never even believed in you." Why would Primus, a god, wait for somebody who had all his life refused to praise him, to honor him in any way.

The light brightened and Starscream felt himself be engulfed in a cocoon of love and warmth and forgiveness - and couldn't really feel anything of it.  
He knew it was there, like the almost forgotten taste of Energon on his tongue, but he couldn't touch it, couldn't reach it as hard as he tried. It was there, all around him, but his Spark was cold and empty, as if an invisible barrier would separate it from _all that he had ever wanted_.

"_Dear child, it isn't important if you believed in me or not as long as_ I_ never stopped believing in _you_! You are my child, my beloved Creation, and I will love you, forever."_

"You love me?" Starscream felt infinitely small.

"Even after all I've done… you love me?"

"_How could I not love and forgive somebody who is a part of me? You are my Creation, you came from me and return to me until you are ready to live once more.  
Most of your siblings regret their choices once they reunite with their brothers and sisters in my very own Spark, once they understand the consequences of their doings and face the pain they have wrought. You chose a unique way to regret, but now, when you have finally returned to me, how could I not tell you that you were already forgiven before you even thought of doing your first wrong?"_

Gentle amusement seemed to ripple through the light, sending waves of comfort and reassurance though the chamber and near Starscream's lifeless Spark.

"But if you love me, if I'm forgiven… then why?" Why those endless hours, days, vorns, _eternities_ as a phantom, a memory, a mockery of life drifting through space and time without any hope to cling to.

"Why didn't you just let me die?"

"_You weren't ready to return, my child, neither to me nor to your siblings. You were afraid of the possibility that you would end up just as alone and unwanted in death as you were in life. Even now you close yourself to everything I'm gladly willing to give you, because you are scared that I will take it away once you had a taste of it. _

_Let go, my child, your suffering was a result of many bad choices, deeply regretted now by those who made them. Your life has been over for a long time, and the only one who is still causing you unnecessary pain is you. Let go and let me heal you."_

The light danced around him, so close and yet so far away, trying to draw him into a loving embrace to wipe away all the tears and to hold and comfort him as long as he needed and wanted. There was love, there was warmth and gentleness, affection, forgiveness, understanding, comfort, acceptance – but Starscream was so scared.

What if?

What if it was nothing but a lie?

A hoax?

How could Primus forgive him? How could he love him when nobody ever had before?

"_Starscream. I have never asked you to believe _in_ me in life, but I ask you now, please _believe_ me in death. Let go and come home, my dear, poor child. We have both waited far too long for this moment."_

The ghost hesitated just for a moment longer, a small eternity full of uncertainty and fear, then he believed and trusted like he had so often before, but whereas he had been disappointed in life, Primus held true and suddenly everything was light.

And it was the "Beginning" and the "End" and the "In-between" and so much more. And when countless voices welcomed him in their midst, he knew that everything would be all right this time….

* * *

_(present)_

Optimus Prime started when a red blur sped past his open office door.

For one moment old reflexes kicked in and he couldn't help but expect an alarm calling him to battle – then he relaxed and chuckled.

It looked like he had managed to get away again, crafty little thing that he was.

With a fond smile Optimus leaned back in his chair, basking in the feel of peace that surrounded all of Cybertron these days.

Sometimes it seemed to him as if it had been just yesterday that he had faced Megatron in battle one last time, enraged about the loss of so many dear friends and driven by the certain knowledge that he would not survive the day.

His foreboding had been proven true, he had died and Rodimus had taken over.

But while his Autobots had mourned their lost loved ones, the dark god of chaos himself had shaped Galvatron out of the remains of Optimus' eternal rival, a desecration even Megatron had never deserved.

It was a relief for Prime to know that Galvatron may have looked like Megatron, but had never shared his Spark or personality in any way or form.

The following time had been hard on both factions.

Unicron had been defeated but Galvatron had stayed, drowning further and further in his own madness.  
And the Quintessons, hated shadows of a past better forgotten, when Primus' children had been forced to live as slaves instead of free as they were always meant to be, had tried to establish their cruel reign once more.

Perhaps they would have won, perhaps the Cybertronians would have defeated them once again, no one would ever know.

When the Quintessons had attempted to demoralize and gain control over the Autobot by using Optimus' corpse as a way to obtain the Matrix, Primus himself had intervened.

The god had forgone his vow to not meddle (too much) in the lives, affairs and decisions of his children and had gotten his revenge on the alien conquerors in a rather… Decepticonish way.

When the Quintessons had arrived at the Mausoleum to use the remains of Cybertron's beloved Prime for their own shady purposes, every former corpse resting in it had been alive, healthy and _waiting._

The Quintessons had never stood a chance, not with Primus' "irritation" still surging through Optimus and his mechs' Sparks.

When Rodimus and the "still living" Autobots had come later to investigate, nobody could say who had been happier to see each other.

The following months of adjustment had proven hard for anybody. Old friendships had to be rebuilt, old enmities to be buried once for all (or quietly and happily reconsumed after a Sparkfelt "Glad you're back, you slagger!") and the Command structure completely overhauled and restructured.

While some of the new officers had feared for their positions and privileges, others had simply feared that the "old timers" lack of experience with the new situation would cause horrible mistakes and casualties. With lots of time and patience, both sides had learned to work together and around each other in the end, both Primes soothing bruised egos and playing referee wherever and whenever they were needed.

It almost hadn't come to that, Optimus remembered sadly.

The morning after his resurrection he had found the Matrix resting on a desk in his temporary quarters while Hot Rod couldn't be found anywhere.

The older Prime couldn't help but still feel disappointed when he remembered the faceplates of some mechs who had basically said "Good riddance" at the news.  
Hot Rod may be impulsive, rash and covering his mistakes and insecurities with false bravado, but with time, experience, trust and guidance he had the makings to become somebody more than worthy of the title Prime.

In fact, those were the exact words Optimus had told Hot Rod after he had set his soldiers straight and found the young mech.

(Optimus' Spark must still have held traces of the righteous fury Primus had inspired in him, he had been a little bit… harsh when expressing what exactly he thought about those mechs' opinions and where they could go shove it. Perhaps Rodimus would have been a Prime more to their liking if they had actually given him a chance. It was either those traces of godly fury or Primus was channeling his irritation through the Matrix. It couldn't have been solely Optimus' feelings, could it? Either way, he refused to even think about apologizing for smashing their heads together and throwing them through the wall.)

After much convincing and coercing, Hot Rod had agreed to share the position of Prime with him, Optimus getting the final say in matters as the more experienced leader and acting as a mentor to Rodimus, something Optimus himself had never had.

The blue and red mech smiled as he thought about how much Rodimus' leadership style had improved since then and how few mechs still doubted his right to guard the Matrix.

The fact that even the young Prime himself had noticed the changes only helped.  
Rodimus had gotten calmer, more cautious and, most importantly, more happier about his position and his future.

Optimus knew, should he die again, Cybertron and its people would be in even better hands than before.

* * *

A yellow head peeked into his office, searched the room, then disappeared again, its owner jogging down the hall.

Optimus chuckled and commanded the door to close.

He understood the need of his mechs to come and check if he really was alive again. Every "revived" mech felt this way, and they had literally adopted an open door policy because of it. But still, sometimes the Prime couldn't help but wish for a little bit more privacy. Especially now, when he knew that if their little escape artist wasn't found soon, the whole base would erupt in pandemonium.

With the "heroes of old" (Optimus couldn't help but snort. He and the othes had only been dead for a few months. How was that old, and who, in Primus' name, had come up with that moniker, anyway?) back in the fold and new hope at the intervention of their own god, the Autobots had finally defeated the Decepticons once and for all.

Some of the Cons had defected, and some of them had been brought to trial and convicted for their crimes.  
But sadly, most of them had died either fighting like the true warriors they saw themselves as or, the less fortunate ones were either killed by Galvatron or starved to death on Charr before the Autobots had even gotten there.

The day Optimus and Rodimus Prime could finally declare peace on Cybertron, most of their mechs had suddenly faced a rather frightening question: What now?

So many were dead, so few left alive.

Most of Cybertron's cities were nothing but ruins, and even with a sun now in close vicinity and many solar energy conversion plants under construction, it would take vorns for Cybertron to reach the technological, economical and cultural state it had been in before the war.

And nobody even wanted to think about how long it would truly take to fill the planet with life again.

Most Autobots chose to stay in Iacon.  
More specifically, in Iacon Autobot headquarters, quietly but resolutely converting it from a purely military base into one giant community living center.

Nobody ever openly said that they were scared of the prospect of living on the giant, _empty _planet (_universe_) they called their home, but the way even the fiercest rivals clung to each other showed that nobody really needed to voice that fear.

Even ambassadorial duties on Earth were always shared and taken in turns, each returning bot relaxing noticeably once he or she was back in the familiar presence of friends and former enemies.

And while it was not the easiest way to live, Optimus would never deny how reassuring - and at times nerve-grating - it was to know that all the mechs and femmes he had learned to trust and appreciate over the vorns would always be just next door.

And when finally everyone had settled down and a status quo had been achieved, true to form the twins decided to up the ante and drop the bomb.

_

* * *

(a few months earlier)_

"They want a Sparkling," Prowl murmured flatly.

Jazz gently patted his shoulder, trying to send reassurance and calm through their bond before Prowl crashed once again. "We've already established that, Prowler. We all locked up at the thought, shared our horror visions, wanted nothing more than to refuse their request but couldn't and agreed in the end that if Primus didn't think them capable of taking care of a little one, he wouldn't grant them one. Remember, love? We're past this point already, so lighten up. Just a few more minutes and they will skulk home without a Sparkling, and they likely will never ask for one again."

Ratchet snorted where he arranged several lifeless Sparkling bodies in a half-circle around Vector Sigma, "You don't really believe that, do you?"

"Nope," Jazz cheerfully. "But a mech can hope, can't he?"

Out of the corner of his optic, Optimus saw Rodimus shake his head, clearly as wary about the idea of the twins taking care of a little life as the rest of them. They all had witnessed in the last vorns how tiring and surprisingly hard it could be to care for a Sparkling, both Vector Sigma created and sparked the natural way.

In the beginning more than one bot had asked if it wouldn't be easier to just let Vector Sigma create adult mechs and femmes instead of putting so much time and effort into a little one that would take vorns and a lot of care to grow up.

Optimus and Ratchet had sat down with every single one of them and explained them patiently and thoroughly the ups and downs of preprogrammed Cybertronians and why the practice of creating adults with the help of Vector Sigma would be outlawed from now on.

It was true that it would be much easier to just built a few thousand frames and let the supercomputer infuse them with Sparks, and then preprogram them for exactly the tasks they needed them to do.

Cybertron would be repopulated in a few vorns this way.

But the downside was that adult preprogrammed bots usually were very fixated and inflexible. Their characters and behaviors weren't the result of experiences and decisions, but of force, of programmed lines that took many repeated impulses to change.

Preprograms tended to be geniuses in the task they were programmed for, but rather mediocre in anything else, if not abysmal. Some were so "well suited" for their tasks that the unluckier ones were nothing more than drones, while the "luckier" ones had to live with serious glitches for the rest of their lives.

It was bad enough that the Autobots had been forced to create the Aerialbots and Protectobots in the war.  
When Vector Sigma created them, Optimus had asked the supercomputer to leave them as much room for development as possible.  
But more often then not, the Prime still felt it hadn't been enough.

They all showed flaws, accepted and loved flaws, but still flaws that may have developed later on but would probably never be overcome and lost.  
Silverbolt would stay afraid of heights and Blades would stay overly aggressive.

Past mistakes couldn't be undone and they all had accepted Optimus' apologies and reasons for his actions.

But the Prime would never again allow that a Cybertronian would be denied the chance to shape themselves with their own free will and choices.

In the end, everybody had accepted the new law and more and more bots, may they be bonded and unwilling to wait until they conceived the natural way, partnerless or such unique cases like the twins and their split Spark, used Vector Sigma to gain their own Sparkling and to start a family.

Today there were nine faces eagerly waiting their turn to ask the embodiment of Primus' will for a little one.

Mirage, Hound and Trailbreaker had wanted give their little femme Youngling a sibling for some time now, but had been unable to conceive so far and were too impatient to wait any longer. A Neutral pair looked ready to bounce off the walls for joy, and a lone Neutral merchant with a somber face and guarded air about him stood a little ways off from the other bots and seemed to be having second thoughts.  
And, last but not least, the twins wore gleeful expressions that made everyone who knew them want to run for cover.

Finally Ratchet was content with his arrangement and returned to First Aid's side to watch the proceedings. Catching Rodimus' optic, Optimus nodded and the younger Prime steeled himself and took a small step forward.

Suddenly all attention was on him.

Optimus could practically see his younger colleague lock up and struggle for the right words to say, clearly thinking he had to make a pompous speech about the honor and responsibility of caring for a Sparkling. He gently nudged him from behind, unseen by the others, and Rodimus calmed down, understanding the message: Keep it simple, they are as nervous as you are and don't care what you say, as long as it is short and Spark-felt.

"It's all ready now. Mirage, Hound, Trailbreaker? You may begin."

Rodimus looked at all the hopeful faces and smiled: "I wish you all the best of luck."

Well, at least it had been short. And sincere.

Ratchet snorted audibly behind him and Jazz gave a short bark of laughter. The twins smirked and turned their backs on them.

The three Caretakers-to-be stepped forward, their little femme Porcelain held securely in Mirage's arms.

"_State your wish!"_ Boomed the golden glowing sphere above them.

By the new law and custom, prospective Caretakers were granted a wish for exactly one thing they desired most in their Sparkling, not more and not less. The decision what to wish for was unsurprisingly easy for those four.

Trailbreaker looked at his family, then to the giant multifaceted orb floating above the motionless Sparkling bodies on the ground. "We would like a Sparkling that fits to us."

Vector Sigma glowed, a sure thing that Primus approved of their request for a Sparkling and their wish, and a small pale-gold sphere detached from him, floating gently down and into the open chest cavity of one of the many Sparkling bodies.

It settled in the Spark chamber, the chest closed and some moments later, bright blue optics onlined for the first time and looked around, trying to take everything in at once. A small mouth opened and squeaked questioningly.

The Sparkling's new Caretakers lost no time and rushed to the little one, opening their Sparks wide to its searching nudges and welcoming it with love and affection.  
The Sparkling squeaked again and little hands latched onto black and green plating, a cheek nuzzled blue metal and then it began to giggle as Porcelain's small curious fingers began to tickle its belly.

"That's so sickly sweet I would be afraid for my teeth if I had any," joked Rodimus quietly beside Optimus, a big silly grin on his face. Optimus chuckled and watched the happy new family walk away from Vector Sigma to a more private spot.

"Ratchet says it's another femme."

Rodimus sighed, "He scanned her?"

Optimus nodded and Rodimus sighed again, "That means I owe Arcee ten cubes of Highgrade."

The older Prime chuckled again and nodded to the next couple to go ahead.

The Neutrals wished for a Sparkling that would always be happy, and they got a little bundle of grey plating and huge yellow optics that squealed at the first sight of them and practically burrowed into their arms, apparently overjoyed to be alive and loved.

The lone merchant was the next to step forward.

He spoke so quietly to Vector Sigma, that nobody heard what he said.

But when Optimus caught a glimpse of the silent smile on the mech's haunted face and saw the way the weight of the whole world seemed to lift off those hunched shoulders when the little one purred contently in the Neutral's arms, he knew the mech had gotten exactly what he had wished for.

Finally it was the twins' turn.

Optimus couldn't help but wince when he heard a faint "They want a Sparkling" from Prowl's direction, followed by Jazz' reassuring cooing.

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker sauntered in front of Vector Sigma like they owned the place, triumphant grins firmly in place and mischief in their optics.

Optimus considered calling them back, either to spare them the disappointment or to spare Vector Sigma from being traumatized by the horror known as the twins, but decided against it. This had already gotten too far to be stopped now.

Out of the corner of his optic he saw Ratchet hide his head in his hands and First Aid ready himself to flee. By his side, Rodimus suddenly turned around and declared: "I can't watch this."

The twins acted as if they didn't notice the actions of their supposed friends and comrades and looked up to Vector Sigma.

"_State your wish!"_

"One wish, eh?" Sideswipe said cheekily.

He traded a look with his brother, then they both shrugged in unison. "To the pit with it!"  
They opened the arms wide and grinned up at the looming presence before them: "Surprise us!"

And surprise them he did.

Later on, many bots would swear that they had felt Cybertron rumble faintly beneath them at exactly this moment and if Rodimus' faceplates were anything to go by, the Matrix in his chest had done a merry little dance at the twins' announcement.

There were more clues, like Vector Sigma flashing in countless colors for some moments, but they all hinted at one thing in Optimus Prime's opinion: Somewhere deep inside Cybertron, Primus was laughing his godly aft off.

The twins had to have gotten their… _unique _brand of humor from somewhere, and apparently this was the perfect opportunity to prove that Sunstreaker and Sideswipe weren't spawns of the Unmaker but Primus' very own, once and for all.

While most of the present mechs still tried to find out why the ground shook and Vector Sigma momentarily resembled a giant disco ball, a small pale blue Spark detached itself from the glowing orb high above their heads and floated lazily down to the waiting bodies.

Optimus would never be able to tell who had been more surprised to see that Primus actually _granted _the twins' request for a Sparkling - his officers or the twins themselves.

Prowl audibly crashed and Ratchet began cursing up a storm. (Never a good behavior around a Sparkling, even if it was one still on the verge of living, but nobody was quite brave enough to mention it.) And Sunstreaker and Sideswipe just stood there, slack-jawed, their optics wide and bright and following the little orb floating from Sparkling body to Sparkling body, obviously inspecting every single one of them and finding each of them wanting.

It began to slowly drift around, often dangerously nearing the edge of the force field Vector Sigma generated to keep the new Sparks from guttering out at their first contact with the outer world.

"Uh, Ratchet?"

Rodimus was the first to get over his shock.

The young Prime winced when the only answer he got was a harsh insult from where the medic was bowed over the unmoving form of Prowl.

"Ratchet! I hate to interrupt, but you really need to take a look at this!"

He barely managed to duck the wrench sailing his way. But at least Rodimus had gotten First Aid's attention, who took one look at the little Spark flying circles above the Sparkling protoforms, gaped for one moment and then simply grabbed Ratchet's head and turned it in the right direction.

Ratchet stared in shock at the situation, then he exploded: "That's just precious. The little pitspawn isn't even online yet and it is already causing problems. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, once this crisis is over, you're dead, you hear me? You're DEAD!"

The twins didn't react, still in a stupor of, "Primus granted _us _a Sparkling. He must be insane!"

Ratchet left Prowl in the care of his bondmate and hurried to the wayward Spark, scanning the row of rejected protoforms for faults or impurities that might explain the Sparkling's reluctance to inhabit them. He always brought many different protoforms to avoid a case such as this, to be prepared for the possibility that he had overlooked a malfunction in one of the bodies and to give a Sparkling the opportunity to decide how he wanted to look for a great deal of his life.

But all the inanimate Sparkling shapes before him were in perfect working order, and while they all showed the same dull grey color, their builds differed enough for a little one to decide between them and settle for one.

But apparently the little firefly from hell above him felt otherwise. It was still floating – no, zipping around now, clearly becoming agitated at the lack of a suitable body to inhabit.

"I can't find any problem with the shells, Ratchet. Why isn't it choosing one?" First Aid intently watched the Sparkling rushing from one side of the force field to the other, wincing whenever it came particularly close to breaching the invisible border and extinguishing itself.

"I'm not sure." Ratchet was running yet another scan over the still forms and over the little glowing ball causing so many problems, cursing the twins, Primus' sudden sense of humor and the little one the whole time.

The Primes had drifted closer by now, looking worriedly at the mess before them as well. If they didn't do something soon, the Sparkling surely would leave the protecting boundaries of Vector Sigma and wither away in a matter of mere seconds.

Suddenly Ratchet straightened and stared at the pale blue flicker whizzing by. "It can't be…."

He hesitated one moment longer, then his face got a determined look.  
The medic picked up three of the rejected protoforms, piled them up in First Aid's arms and shoved him in the direction of a corner.

Then he turned to the twins who were still lost in their trance ("Primus is crazy. Primus is slagging crazy and gave us a Sparkling."), pulled them by their collars towards him, and looked them sternly in the astonished optics once he was sure he had their undivided attention.

He pointed to the pale blue Spark whizzing about, his other hand threateningly raising a wrench. "Do you see this? The pretty blue light going crazy up there?"

Both twins nodded mutely.

"Good, boys, very good. Now repeat with me: That's our Sparkling, it's alive, it's ours and it's our responsibility." The twins obediently mouthed along, still too dazed to do anything else. Ratchet patted their helmets condescendingly.

"Very good. And now listen carefully: Your most important responsibility is keeping your Sparkling alive. And right now it's in grave danger of extinguishing itself without knowing what it is doing. So, whatever it takes, you will keep it inside this forcefield or, Primus help me, I will make sure that you follow it to the Matrix. _Slowly. Painfully!_ Understood?"

The twins nodded and with a little bit of friendly convincing with the wrench, began to slowly circle the forcefield, shooing the little Spark away from the edges whenever it came too close. The Primes moved to help them without being prompted and Ratchet hurried to get over to his colleague, comming Wheeljack on his way to bring some parts down to Vector Sigma, as fast as he could.

* * *

Roughly two hours later Ratchet, First Aid and the recently arrived Wheeljack approached the forcefield again, one newly modified protoform in their hands and the mangled remains of the rejected forms lying forgotten in the corner.

Optimus couldn't help but cycle a deep gust of air through his vents, the Sparkling had gotten more agitated with each minute that had passed and by now it was hard work herding it back into the safe center of the forcefield and actually _keeping_ it there for more than a few seconds.

"Will it help?" he asked, indicating the shell in Ratchet's hands. The medic looked uncertain when he nodded, "At least I hope so. It wasn't quite easy to make the modifications work without the correct parts and I feel a little bit like that human MacGyver right now – but if I diagnosed the problem correctly, it should work. If not…."

Optimus didn't really want to think about the "if not".

Ratchet briskly entered the forcefield and lay down the new shell beside the others.  
At first glance, it didn't look much different, a little bit sleeker and smaller perhaps, the feet slightly altered, but other than that, it was dull grey and lifeless and similar to the others.

When the medic stepped back and the pale blue Spark was herded carefully but resolutely towards the waiting protoforms, everyone watching stilled their systems in anticipation, not wanting to scare the little one away again.

The small orb floated above the forms for moments, than it suddenly dove into the newly added body, claiming its Spark chamber and shutting all barriers and protections in a matter of mere seconds.

The forcefield surrounding Vector Sigma extinguished.

Every bot present cycled a deep gust of air, slowly stepping nearer to the grey, unmoving bundle on the ground. Sideswipe peered, half curiously, half warily, over his brother's shoulder. "Is it alive?"

Ratchet ran a scan over the little one and nodded: "_He_ is alive and fine. Thank Primus. But then again, it's his fault in the first place." He glared at the twins: "Or yours. Seriously, 'Surprise us…'"

The ensuing tirade was cut short when the little one suddenly onlined his optics – bright red optics.

"Oh I knew it," Ratchet grumbled while the Sparkling sat up, the wingnubs on his back hard to overlook. The medic snorted: "Surprise us, they said. Great going, idiots."

The Seekerlet stared up at him, utterly silent, huge red optics wide and strangely cautious. He made no move to reach out to any of them or to demand attention in any way.  
He just sat there, examined them each in turn and stared.

Optimus couldn't help but notice that for one moment, the little mech's optics looked far too old and world weary for such a young body.  
And if Rodimus' frown was anything to go by, he had either seen or felt it, too.

"Congratulations, Sunstreaker, Sideswipe. It's good to see that it won't be long until Seekers will fly in our skies again. I had already stopped hoping."

The twins' heads snapped up as Optimus addressed them, a cry for help clearly in their still-a-little-bit-dazed optics.

Apparently they had no clue what to do now, confirming the Prime's suspicion that their request had been some kind of joke right from the beginning. Well, it seemed as if Primus thought them much more responsible as they themselves did – and to be honest, Prime shared that assessment.  
The Sparkling would be good for them, and they could be great Caretakers – if they would just do something already.

"Perhaps you should pick him up now before he becomes even more confused with all these new faces around and nobody claiming him as their own," Optimus prompted gently.

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker shared a look, then the yellow twin gingerly knelt down and, hesitantly at first, took the Sparkling into his arms, standing up once again.

His brother looked over his shoulder, waving nervously at the little one and attempting a shaky smile: "Uh… hello there. Looks like you're stuck with us, now. Uh… sorry for that?"

Ratchet snorted and the Sparkling just continued to stare.

Sideswipe's face fell and Sunstreaker shifted uncertainly.

Suddenly, both twins felt something touch their shared Spark, a shy nudge, barely there and ready to disappear at any sign that it wasn't welcomed.  
Without really thinking about it, they reached for the small Spark calling their own life-essence, wrapping it in their shared emotions of disbelief, wonder, astonishment, awe and a barely understood, unconscious happiness that more and more seeped to the surface of their thoughts.

They had a Sparkling.

An actual, living Sparkling.

The realization finally hit them fully and both twins suddenly found themselves sitting on the ground, their knees refusing to support them at the sudden revelation, the Sparkling held firmly and safely against Sunstreaker's chest.

_They had a Sparkling!_

Amazement and joy filled their Sparks and flooded the tentative connection to the little Seeker in their arms, faces lighting up with big, silly grins. The Sparkling trilled in surprise at the sudden onslaught of love, acceptance and welcome directed at him, then the bond snapped fully into place and he chirruped happily, nestling even closer to the half-Spark of his new Caretaker.

Somewhere, deep inside of Cybertron, Primus smiled.

"So… thought about any names yet?"

_

* * *

(present time)_

Optimus Prime couldn't help but chuckle at the memory of the twins' faces at Ratchet's not so innocently asked question.

Not expecting to even get granted their wish, they had had no answer, and the other bots present hadn't been a real help in the matter.

Rodimus' "Surprisepackage" and "Curveball" had still been among the nicer suggestions.  
Once a finally reawakened Prowl – having been informed of the drama he had missed by his bondmate – had taken one long look at the Sparkling and dryly uttered "Poetic Justice", only to smirk disconcertingly afterwards, the suggested names had quickly gone from "Karma" and "Irony" over "Payback" to such _wonderful_ choices like "Pitspawn", "Hellraiser" and "Tweedlethree".

Finally, Prime hadn't been able to resist the twins' pleading, slightly horrified optics any longer and had stepped in. Following his instincts and Spark, he had given the Seekerlet a temporary name that had fit the Newspark a lot better than Optimus had realized at that moment.

He only hoped that when the little one was old enough to choose a designation of his own, the Seeker would no longer fit his Sparkling name.

The difficulties of finding a name for their Sparkling was just the first of many more instances to occur in which the twins suddenly found themselves in a situation that was completely new to them and could, for once, neither be handled with intimidation, sneaky cunning nor violence.

For once in their lives, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker felt completely helpless, not knowing what to do, how to act around the little being that they had wished into their lives without thinking about the consequences.

But even when they once again ended up as the butt of many good-natured jokes and ribbing or despairing over the hard task of taking care of another living being that was incredibly gifted in making their lives difficult in any way it could, Prime and every other Autobot knew that by now, that the twins would never take their wish back.

They loved their Sparkling, pampering him in any way they could and more then ready to spoil him rotten and to fulfill his every wish.

Sure, they would groan about their duties as Caretakers whenever they could, trying unsuccessfully to keep their front as merciless, sparkless, irresponsible warriors out for Energon and ready to eat cute, little Sparklings for breakfast.  
But nobody who had ever witnessed their frantic searching when their little one had managed to disappear once more, could ever see them in the same light ever again.

They loved the Seekerlet deeply and would do anything for him.

* * *

Optimus was ripped from his thoughts, when something wet and cold suddenly touched his ankle.

He looked down and into the bright red optics of a little Seeker-Sparkling, who was covered head to toe in a multitude of colors. The little one stared at him for a moment, head titled to one side and optics strangely searching, then it chirped contently and smeared another streak of fingerpaint over the Prime's leg.

Optimus couldn't help but chuckle.

He reached down and gently cupped the miniscule head with one hand, caressing the tiny helmet: "Hello, Echo. Have you escaped your poor Caretakers again?"

A distracted chirrup was the only answer he got, the Sparkling far more interested in adding some red to the light blue streaks on Prime's paintjob.

"Sunstreaker will blow a gasket when he sees you in those colors again."

This time the little one reacted, peeking up at Optimus with a strangely wary look in suddenly too old optics. Covered in black, silvery white, red and blue, the Sparkling reminded the Prime more of his former life than ever before.

Optimus had suspected right from the beginning, ever since he had caught the brief glimpse of too old optics in a young face, that unlike most Sparks, this little newly created Spark still contained imprints and buried memories of a former life.

Rodimus had only confirmed this theory when he had asked for a private meeting a few weeks after that fateful day in the cave of Vector Sigma….

_

* * *

(a few weeks after the Seekerlet's arrival)_

"You know he's not a real Sparkling, don't you, Optimus?"

Optimus looked at the worried face of his successor and sighed.  
He had known that Rodimus would eventually pick up on it. It was hard to miss if you had once been attuned to the Matrix, and Rodimus even carried the relic.  
Even without the obvious hints it would have been apparent that there was something special and familiar about Echo.

"He is and he is not." Optimus folded his hands in front of him and looked sorrowfully at the young mech pacing on the other side of the desk.  
"He is a Sparkling and yet parts of his former personality, his former life, have managed to preserve themselves. I hope these remnants will fade over time, but right now, they still come to the surface whenever something triggers them. And unfortunately that still happens more often than not."

Optimus sighed again and Rodimus looked at him, a quick gaze full of emotions that the older mech couldn't even begin to name before the blue optics were averted.

"But I don't understand why. If the Spark wasn't ready to be reborn yet, why did Primus send him to us in the first place? Or was it a mistake, did he manage to cheat death and Primus yet again somehow?"

Rodimus suddenly stopped and stared unseeingly at the far wall. His voice became soft and hollow. "Sometimes, when I look at him, I taste clouds and condensation, Optimus. I smell heat and wind and my armor feels cold and I feel the wind on my wings and the sun on my canopy…."

The younger Prime sank into one of the comfortable chairs in front of Optimus' desk and stared blankly at his predecessor. "I don't even have these parts, Optimus."

His face turned into a mask of desperation and pain. "But that's not even the problem, I could excuse this with the knowledge that he's a Seeker – but then the Matrix starts to tingle and burn in my chest and he gets this look in his optics…. And I can't help but ask myself if he's plotting how to murder us all in our sleep in that cute little head of his. No Sparkling should have optics that cold and calculating."

Rodimus shook his head – then he suddenly let out a short bark of laughter.

"And his shenanigans whenever he's in medbay for a checkup don't help either. I'm certain if Ratchet wouldn't have threatened to dismantle the twins and leave Echo protoform-grey for all eternity, Sunstreaker would have already tried to ban the colours red, blue and white from Iacon entirely, just to make sure his precious little one doesn't end up looking like - how did he put it? – that flying nuisance with an ego the size of Jupiter and the voice that could break Cybertronian bullet-proof glass."

The young Prime sagged even further into the chair and hid his head in his hands. "I can only pray Sunstreaker and his brother never find out…. Primus."

Optimus knew that it was highly inappropriate, but he couldn't help the broad grin that threatened to find its way onto his faceplates.

While naturally sparked Sparklings chose their paint jobs while still being carried and more often than not showed a blend of their Creators' colours, Vector Sigma sparked Sparklings and mechs began their life uniformly grey, and chose their future appearance in the course of several medical checkups. They were shown a digital likeness of themselves and given the chance to colour it however they wanted.

Preprogrammed adults usually only needed one or two medbay visits to decide on their appearance.  
They were painted accordingly in a matter of hours and needed only a few days for their self-repair systems to assimilate the tiny colour particles and reprogram itself to actually colour the surface of their plating in the same hue.

Sparklings needed a lot more time.

The little ones sometimes needed _vorns_ to find a suitable paint job, changing this, darkening that, suddenly giving up on a former favored color scheme completely and quite often showing up with no less than three different paint jobs in one week, more often than not looking as if they had been in a battle with a crazy artist and lost spectacularly.

When it had been little Echo's first turn to pick a temporary paint job, his Caretakers had visibly fluffed up with pride when their tiny genius had figured out how to use the touchscreen on the first try and even recognized its purpose after a few minutes of poking, prodding and generally amusing himself with watching the shiny colors flash by.

The pride had quickly turned into looks of pure, unadulterated horror when Echo had chosen a very, _very _familiar paint job.

And ever since then, he hadn't stopped trying to convince his guardians to paint him in those colors whenever the opportunity presented itself, be it in other checkups or when fingerpaint was nearby….

"Perhaps there was no 'ready', Rodimus."

"Huh?" The younger Prime looked up questionably.

"You asked why Primus didn't wait until the little one was ready to be reborn, before he sent him. Perhaps this is as ready as he was ever going to get." Optimus explained with a sad smile.

"I've done some research and while I haven't found much on the matter, whenever a Spark was reborn with some of his previous memories still preserved before, there was a reason for it. Sometimes it was an almost-bondmate left behind that would be remembered, at other times it was a deep sense of duty that remained even after death and rebirth – and in some cases it was the result of some trauma, some fear the reborn bot just couldn't let go of.

But in all cases it faded after time, and I hope it won't be any different this time around."

"So, basically, if we dug around in his past, we would find something that was so profound that it carried over into this life as well? I hope you don't plan on finding out what it was, because to say that that mech had issues would be an understatement." Rodimus snorted and stood.

"Anyway, it can't be changed now. And the kid is too cute with his big red optics – and I can't believe I'm actually saying that – to hold a grudge."

Optimus smiled and leaned back. He watched as his successor walked to the door, far more relaxed than he had been before their little meeting.

"Rodimus?"

The younger mech stopped and looked back curiously.

"This stays between us."

The orange Prime nodded, "Naturally. Just… I think Skyfire knows somehow. Don't ask me how he found out, but he has already called dibs on getting the teacher position once the little ones are old enough to go to school. And when the twins asked him why he thought he was good enough to teach their precious pitspawn, he just _smiled_ at them. They snarled, they insulted, they threatened, but he just_ smiled_, and in the end even _I _was creeped out and they backed off."

Rodimus Prime shook his head and shrugged helplessly. "For all it's worth, I'll talk to him and make it clear that that's not _his _Seeker, regardless who Echo once has been – but to be honest I don't think Skyfire really sees just a substitute in him. More like a new chance than a second chance…. But I'll speak with him."

"Thank you, Rodimus."

The younger mech nodded and turned to the door again.

This time his fingertips actually briefly touched the doorpad before he was stopped once again.

"Tell me, Rodimus, just out of curiosity, do you know what 'Starscream' actually means?"

_

* * *

(present time)_

Rodimus Prime hadn't known, but Optimus hadn't really expected him to.

After all, the meaning behind it had already been forgotten when Optimus had been young and much more innocent.  
A time when a young, naïve dockworker had searched the libraries of Iacon for hours for love poems for his beautiful Ariel.

'Starscream', an ancient poet's description of a supernova, of the last flare of beauty of a dying star, the final "scream", the brilliant light of the explosion - brigther than ever before and in colors one could only dream of - that would wander through the universe endlessly to tell the tale of the star's glory and its death.

'Starscream', meaning the last moment of glory right before death, 'Swansong' in human terms and Optimus could never keep himself from smiling wistfully at the thought of what Starscream himself would have said, had he known of that term.

'Starscream', the name itself was one of the strongest reasons why Optimus believed so steadfastly that the Seeker's life had been a tragedy, because what else did the designation foretell?

'Starscream', to gain what you wished for, to achieve glory, to burn brighter than the brightest star - just to lose _everything_ in the next moment and succumb to darkness forever.

Destined to fail….

Destined to believe he had won, just to lose in the end, lose everything….

Sometimes Optimus wondered if Starscream had known what his name meant, if the Seeker had spent his whole life fighting against fate – or if he had been lost and confused and searching for answers on why he just could never _win_.

The Prime couldn't help but hope for the first option.

* * *

Wet fingertips trying to reach his knee joint woke him from his musings and he couldn't help but smile down at Echo, who gazed with bright optics up at him and lifted his arms to get picked up.

Optimus obliged chuckling and the Sparkling snuggled into his chestplates and purred contently, leaving handprints of bright red and blue on the much darker paint job.  
For one moment, every thought of the Seekerlet's former self were forgotten and the mech saw nothing but a Sparkling basking in the presence of a loved and loving adult, an "uncle" of some sort.

Optimus smiled and stroked the tiny wingnubs, marveling at the knowledge that one day these tiny lumps of metal and wires would develop into proud wings ready to tame the winds and soar through the skies.

A soft beep caught his attention and he opened the door to his office.

Sunstreaker, having received his summons that Echo had found his way into Prime's office once again, peeked his head in, his usual haughty, now (very badly hidden) worried scowl melting into an expression of pure relief when he caught sight of the little Seeker cradled against Optimus' chestplates.

"There you are," he stated softly, having learned very quickly (and painfully, courtesy of Ratchet), that you don't shout or yell in the presence of an easily frightened Sparkling.

Sunstreaker frowned and Optimus noticed with worry how Echo's small face seemed to close up, his optics turning cold and… no, not cold and calculating, how Rodimus had put it, but wary and as detached as the little one could make himself be. He seemed to be waiting for something bad to happen, now that Sunstreaker had found him after his little adventure.

"We searched for you everywhere…. Have you any idea how worried we were?" Sunstreaker's voice was still uncharacteristically soft as he picked the Sparkling up, holding him up above his faceplates and scrutinizing him, searching for injuries or anything else out of place. When he found nothing, he brought the motionless Seekerlet down and nuzzled it.

"Primus, I would ask you to never do that again, but I know you will, you little rascal."

He never noticed how his Sparkling suddenly relaxed, wariness and mistrust vanishing the instant Sunstreaker cuddled him close.  
Echo suddenly chirruped happily and hugged his Caretaker's faceplates, smearing fingerpaint everywhere in the process, and rubbed his tiny cheek against Sunny's much larger one.

Prime smiled at the display, hesitated for a moment – and then took a picture, planning to gift it to Sideswipe next Christmas. Either that or donate it anonymously to the picture collection Jazz and others had started the day the very first Sparkling had been born.

The sight of the bubbly, happy Sparkling before him eased a lot of his worries and Prime finally thought that he understood Echo's many small oddities and disappearing acts.

The remnants of his former self drove Echo to "test" his Caretakers, forcing them again and again to prove that they wouldn't hurt him should he do something bad and that they would search for him, that they genuinely cared for him.

Prime was pretty sure that the twins had done a great job so far to convince Starscream's last sense of self that they would neither ever abandon him nor abuse him in any way. And Optimus couldn't help but notice in hindsight that the intervals between Echo's disappearances had been increasing slowly but steadily.

Given some time, they probably would cease totally, and Starscream's memories would fade away completely, leaving only a happy and loved Sparkling that was hell-bent on keeping his Caretakers from getting bored.

Sunstreaker finally noticed that he had an audience for his uncharacteristic display of affection and tenderness and gently plucked the Seekerlet from his faceplates, clearly embarrassed. "Er…. Thank you for comming me and taking care of him in the meantime, Prime."

Optimus smiled, "Anytime Sunstreaker. If you or your brother ever need a break, you know where you can find me. Elita and I would be delighted to take care of your little one for an hour or two."

The smile turned mischievous when the taller mech wiped some blue paint from the spot where once his Autobot symbol had been. "I don't even mind being his canvas. But perhaps you should try to encourage Echo to use some different colors once in a while, just for diversity's sake."

"I'm sorry, Prime."

Optimus' smile only got broader when Sunstreaker looked earnestly chagrined at the red and blue handprints on Prime's plating but didn't even notice the colorful spots on his own, or Echo, who had begun to trace the seams on the bright yellow of his Caretaker's plating with both hands, leaving bright violet-ish streaks that clashed horribly with the golden paint of his guardian.

It was amazing how Sparklings could change your priorities….

Prime couldn't resist the temptation to take another picture, this time sending it to Jazz straight away.  
He was sure it would be all over the Iacon base in less than five minutes.

"Don't worry, Sunstreaker. It's just paint. It washes off easily enough."

Sunstreaker nodded and turned to take Echo to the washracks, his face melting back into his usual scowl now that his emotions had had time to settle and he remembered that he was supposed to be the big badass golden menace, the nightmare of all Decepticons, the torturer of Minibots, bane of Ratchet and brother to the resident red idiot of the base.

Said idiot could be heard in the distance, shouting through the corridors that Echo had been found, thank you all very much, and yes, he was going to put the little one on a leash now – at least if the little one was still functioning after he had crushed him in a hug, after all, the scraplet was taking right after his Dads and wasn't that just the greatest thing since the invention of Energon goodies?

A distinct clang marked the end of the yelling, and then Ratchet could be heard berating Sideswipe once again on proper behavior around a Sparkling.

Optimus leaned back, grinning like an idiot and not caring the tiniest bit, and waved at Echo who peeked over Sunstreaker's shoulder at him.

When their optics met, Optimus felt the faint sensation of a tingle in his chest, as if his Spark was still connected to the Matrix, and for the shortest moment he didn't see a multi-colored Sparkling being carried by his doting Caretaker, but a proud young Seeker, completely in black with slim, elegant lines in silver-white, electric blue and neon green forming subtle patterns on his gleaming plating and hiked up wings that could only be of Sunstreaker's design.

The vision ended a moment later and Optimus smiled, listening to the sounds of his large family all around him.

Everybody was alive and happy. Everything would be fine.

Primus had heard the screams of one of his most unfortunate children and answered, sending an echo of tragedy to the living world to be reborn in love and joy.

Everything would be all right this time around...

_And_ it looked as if the twins didn't have to worry about Echo's paintjob after all.


End file.
